Centuries
by nl8
Summary: "A tall woman stepped off of the elevator, perfectly balanced in her black pumps. Her legs bronze and long. As she approached closer he realized that her hair was black; not the dark raven he had thought it to be and the eyes... the eyes were a striking cornflower blue." Diana wakes up 100 years in a modern world she does not know, and that modern world includes one Clark Kent...
1. Prologue

I

 _Some legends are told_  
 _Some turn to dust or to gold_  
 _But you will remember me_  
 _Remember me, for centuries_  
 _Just one mistake_  
 _Is all it will take_  
 _We'll go down in history_  
 _Remember me for centuries_

 ** _-_ Centuries by Fall Out Boy.**

She wanted to breath, and he did too.

They were the same hard liquor, burning down your throat and to your core and to your brain. The same wayward souls. They were both fucked up - _but not that much._

They were both a little dead inside.

Both a little lonely.

His hand curled around hers, rough fingers sinking into warm copper. There were tears in her eyes as the wind whipped at their faces. Lightning cracked the skies behind them. Her heart sunk when his eyes flitted to hers, blazing even in the darkness.

She gasped as her foot slipped on loose gravel.

"To the end then, beloved"

:::

 **Nine Months Earlier**

 _September 1_ _st_ _, 1925: Somewhere along the Eastern Front_

 _(Fall of 1925)_

London in the 1920s, everyone had a story about the impervious super soldier. Fashioned by the Gods from clay and fire and earth, The Original Eve. Power, grace and wisdom in the anatomy of the fairer sex. Sculpted right from the soils of her Grecian heritage. At least that was the story that she had orchestrated for herself, indemnity from the vulgar vultures of the press from the paper companies. It was the truth to some extent, but it was no better than a lie. Themyscira, the mother land. The place of her origin as well as her birth; that was before Father ripped her from her Mother's womb and turned her into this enhanced celestial being. In her the thirteen years she had been in Man's world she had met and fallen in love with an English spy, only to have that happiness snatched away in a cruel twist of the fates.

Diana was eighteen years old when she first felt her heart beat.

It wasn't as if she had converted to romanticism or anything. Long before, she'd made the conscious decision to break her own heart, numb it down, force herself to feel nothing and do _everything_ without regret. She'd done that the first time Father looked into her eyes and saw something else, something from before. Diana knew she looked like her late mother, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons - dead at childbirth - but it had been clean then. Reflected in Zeus's blue eyes staring down at her as other fathers lifted their offspring on their shoulders, whispered encouragement into their ear.

 _Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons,_ _Dead at childbirth._

Zeus, King of Mount Olympus, capable of nothing more than hating his own child. It was this that Diana thought about as she looked up at the train ceiling, nothing blurring into the symphony of hallucinations.

Steve Trevor had once told her that he looked at her and he saw an angel, a touch of skin and his whole body ignited. Told her, that he kissed her and he knew that he was falling in love. Then he had pressed his lips to hers and told her that he _was_ in love with her. And in that moment, in that picturesque, divine moment she'd known that she loved him too. It had been the most real thing that she had ever had the had the fortitude of grasping. When Steve died, she was left numb and alone, and in attempt to make it stop she had retreated back to Olympus in hopes that being a God as a full time occupation would distract from the howling wound left in her soul.

But nothing helped, she still felt dead inside no matter what she tried.

It would only be years later, that her father would cast her out of Olympus. To save the world one last time. As the 4 PM Metro North dragged along its lakeside rails, Diana Prince could only imagine that this was what it would be like to descend into her very own ring of Dante's Inferno. She'd read the novel, knew it was punishment by exile – and that's exactly what she was being subjected to. An unidentifiable stench filled her nose, and the backs of her legs stuck to the maroon seats underneath her. She sighed, rolling her stockings up until they reached the very top of her thighs.

"Is this seat taken mademoiselle?"

She glanced up at the pervy old frenchman standing before her, a smarmy grin full of yellowed teeth. His eyes were trained on the dip of her button-down shirt, where the outline of her under garments showed through the fabric.

Diana hardened her eyes and dropped her leather clutch into the seat next to her.

"C'est maintenant."

The man huffed, the smile dropping from his face in under a second. He hobbled over to the seat in front of her, grumbling something in his mother tongue about harlots and _icy bitches._

Diana set her jaw, shifting in her seat. It was nothing she hadn't been called before but darn it ... if he wasn't a pensioner she would've taught him a fine lesson in manners. Would've lynched him before he could scream. _Vile,_ she thought. To the world, Diana Prince the name she'd adopted when she'd first ventured into man's world was, ironically, known to all she acquainted as the queen of chastity. While other shameless women counted the notches on their belts at fact or falsifier, her routine answer always remained. _"I've done everything but,"_ Either that or the blood would flare in her cheeks before she could even splutter out her response.

Diana sighed, raking her manicured nails through her hair. Outside, the day was grim, unpromising and completely underwhelming. She counted the trees as they whipped by. But appreciating the world's beauty, didn't make the time go by any faster.

 _One._

She hated her father.

She'd never really pondered the fact that he might feel the same way about her (considering that _he_ was the reason why Diana was even on this train). In fact, she rarely thought of her father much anymore at all. He was more of a commonplace entity, a blur in the background, handing out the rewards, but never sticking around long enough for the actual coronation. If anything, Diana's heart panged for Hermes, her half brother, the robust little messenger, who'd so often tolerated Diana's incessant outbursts and rants. And it was her father who had shipped her off to Man's world the moment that she had become of age, leaving her with the cryptic message of - _All shall be revealed soon my Littlest God._

 _Two._

She hated Hera. She was insufferably jealous, her father's chosen lag-on to rebut her father's sordid affairs. That voodoo-tattered beldam had been stationed at the doorway with a sickening smile as father droned out the mandatory sympathy spiel. The falsities.

 _You will do this, Diana. Do not dare give me such a look. If you are triumphant, you will be free to return to Mount Olympus. It is only your love that can truly save the world._

 _Love._

At that moment Diana couldn't fathom the word. She made a list in her head, of all the good things she'd seen someone do. Every little thing that she could drag up, she recalled. Like a game she'd do it over and over until it would start to get tedious a while later.

 _Three._

She hated her sister Aphrodite. She hated blonde hair and blue eyes and _take me now_ grins. She hated those plump lips ratting her out under the guise of being a good sibling.

 _"Diana has been acting a little strange as of late, Father. I think she is still in mourning."_

Diana cracked her hand down on the windowsill, frightening the elder woman across the aisle. The old woman was giving her a look of something between shock and horror, the grey eyes looked between her to the cracked glass of the pane. Which spread out like cobwebs until it was indented into the crevices of the train metals as well. Horrified, she snatched her hand from the pane. She would have to get off the train now, before suspicions were raised. she shot the woman an apologetic look, half considering forcing her into secrecy and Aphrodite's face invading her mind like a virus.

 _Aphrodite's_ were the lips that were probably pressed sloppily against Diana's brother Ares at that very moment.

 _Four._

She hated Steve Trevor. Hated him for making her fall in love with him, only to leave her alone in this cold and terrible world that her father guarded. Diana felt her fists tighten all over again, dangerously close to striking out for a second time. But then it stopped. It was like someone had plucked away the dark cloud raging inside of her. There was the feeling of a cool pressure on her hand, a familiar warmth wrapping around it and intertwining through fingers made of ice. Diana's guise reluctantly lifted to be met with the sight of dimpled cheeks and a sea of blue. Whoosh, there went all her air.

"It's okay, darling." came that voice, that roguish rationalistic voice with all the charm she'd remembered him to have.

"Steve?" Diana whispered, tenderly.

"I know what you're going through. It's okay, Diana."

"How am I seeing you right now?" she could hear the reluctance behind her own voice, bordering on hysteria.

"It's time to wake up Diana." he shot back, shocking her. She didn't understand. What was scaring him?

"Steve, what do you - ?"

"Diana wake up."

:::

 ** _November 15th_ _, 2013: MetaHuman Affairs_**

 _100 years later . . ._

She fell face first into wakefulness. Gasping for breath, for life. Groaning as the first hit of awareness started to succumb her. There was this odd ringing in her ears as if a nuke had just exploded in her face and thrown her away. Her being was crippled by frost, numb to all feeling. A cold surface greeted her yet she remained still as she laid on her back while her eyes took in her surroundings. The taste of _blood?_ was dripping down her throat. It tasted like metal and in that moment Diana realized that she had never felt more innocuously awake in her entire life. A clean assailant that smelled precisely like antiseptic assaulted her nostrils, and she squeezed her eyes shut in brief discomfort at the feeling of something pinching at her arm.

Grunting out her displeasure, she started squirming against the sensation. Fighting it. She needed to see the source. Diana's head snapped up so fast, that it could've given her whiplash and there before her very eyes sat a man she didn't recognize. He hadn't realized she was watching him yet, and when he did, his eyes widened to that of saucers. Diana met his stare, dead on and livid. Sparkling blue eyes flickering wildly between the pointed thing and the bastard holding it.

"Beast." Diana snarled, eyes alight with a Goddess's rage.

She struck out grabbing the pygmy mortal by the throat and threw the ingrate from her with terrifying strength. The man let loose a wild scream, before hitting the wall and sliding to the floor unconscious. _Silly child,_ Diana thought. The action no doubt would cause a disturbance and she had no choice but to think on her feet. She glanced down at the herself; first and foremost these _things_ implanted in her skin needed to go. She tugged hastily at them, making quick work of trying to relieve herself of the feeling of being attached. The _live wires?_ or whatever in Hera they were, hurt like being pricked by a thousand tiny little men with swords. They stretched her skin, as she pulled them out and blood beaded in each spot they came up from like weeds being pulled from the earth.

There was no time to wallow in the sting, she had to move quickly. She leapt to her feet, punched the door down and ran for it!

She tore up the corridors with impossible speed, knocking away everything in sight. _Remember the plan. Remember the plan._ She told herself, a staccato beat drilling in her skull.

 _All agents code 13!_

A voice screamed from her right, Gods so many voices.

 _I repeat all agents code 13!_

Another from her left.

Where was that noise coming from? she wanted to grab the nearest object and hurl it at whatever thing was culpable. Anything to make it stop! Not once did she falter her hurried steps, she ran through the fire in her lungs searching left, right, up and down. She was trapped, her eyes darted around frantically; an animal backed into a corner and she scratched and plummeted at the walls, half expecting it to crack under the force of her fists. But there was nothing, it was like someone had known that this would be exactly what she would try to do. Diana spun recklessly at a racket down the hall, to see two armed soldier waiting for her. One was coming toward her hesitantly, a look of total distress on his visage.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop right there ma'am... whoa!"

"Θα τολμούσατε να διατάξετε έναν Θεό" Diana growled, viciously in her mother tongue. Hoisting the man in the coat of his feet, and pinning him to the wall. She narrowed her eyes, intent on ripping the man's gullet out and the click of a gun being taken of safety; when a voice sounded, a voice she had never heard before.

"Don't shoot it!"

 _It!_

 _They were referring to her as a thing!_

The demand only had her tightening her grasp on the weasel's throat more. These savages thought that they could hold her?

"Put the man down. Diana," Her head turned sharply then, caught of guard by the knowledge that this skin-headed unco knew her name. This man's eyes were clever and taunting, but his smile was kind.

"How do you know my name?"

"I assure you we will answer all your questions; but we implore you to kindly let Dr Borden down, so that we can go back to the holding room and give you a clearer understanding of this pointless predicament."

"The only way I will stay in that room is if I am dead," Diana quipped, ferociously. The man in her grasp was frantic. His spindly body convulsing like a that of a fish straight out of water, he clawed and scratched at her hand in a chilling kind of distress. His face starting to turn an awful purplish color. He looked like a beetroot. Diana shifted her hold, forcing him farther up the wall. Squeezing until she was sure that he would not be of a nuisance to her anymore. And only when the man went slack did she let him go, watching with satisfaction as he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

"Speak." Diana ordered, turning fully to face the bald-patted man.

"My name is Dr. Alexander Luthor, I'm a researcher here at MetaHuman Affairs." The stranger continued on, "Our fellow researchers found _you_ encased in a block of ice just south of the Arctic ocean. When we discovered that you were still alive we were... astounded. It's taken us months to try to revive you."

Diana's mind went haywire, trying to feel an ounce of emotion, trying to grasp onto something that wasn't there. She tried to recall what must've happened. _A date, a time, a year..._

"I can't remember -"

"Your DNA sample tells us, that your name is Diana Prince, permanent records tells us that you're from London." Dr. Luthor cut in, not missing a beat.

"What more than that?" Diana breathed, her body tensing.

"You're not of this world are you?" His tone wasn't condescending, but honestly curious. It was strange how some people could be about things like these, as if they were recapping _A Midsummer's Night's Dream_ over a cup of tea. She shuddered, forgetting herself momentarily.

Diana thought hard, really hard.

"No... I don't think I am." Instead of delving into it, Dr. Luthor simply nodded, offering Diana a kind smile. One that was not returned.

"The date is still September 1st 1925, is it not?" she commanded, fiercely. A sinking feeling beginning to lodge it's way into her gut.

"No Diana, the date is November 15th 2013" He answered, facetiously. Said it as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

Diana felt her heart stop.

"November 15th, 2013." Diana tested it out, she frowned trying to make sense of the words. "Not possible." It couldn't be true, they were lying. It had to be just some fictitious story they had made up to scare her. But if that were it, that would completely go against her current situation. She wanted to believe this all to be all some magnanimous fabrication that Luthor had spun. But the necessities that presented was much more closer to what she had been sprouted, than the cautionary tale her brain was weaving for her, _Truth_ _was much more terrible than fiction._

Luthor's words were clear but the question still remained -

How long had she been asleep ...

:::

 ** _June 18th_ _, 2015: The JLA Watchtower_**

 _Two years later . . ._

Clark Kent was a lot of things, journalist, office neek, activist and a part time superhero living vicariously through life. _Yes,_ a tad naive at times; but stupid wasn't one of them. It would be way to easy to say; that Bruce had packed this added pressure on him simply because he's a dick. But even he knew that wasn't the whole truth of it. Clark was exhausted when he finally made it to The Watchtower to look over those papers that Bruce had practically bullied him to look at. There was hardly anyone in the cafeteria and Clark was glad for it. He glanced down at the spread sheets splayed across the table, and took a few notes on his iPad.

Bruce was right, the asset stats for MetaHuman Affairs were all over the shop. The same went for Lexcorp's. Puzzled, he ran his fingers over where the lines crossed each other before going completely off the page.

 _Weird,_ he thought.

The dots them self were easy to connect but other than that Clark was in way over his head. He was reaching for his iced mocha when something from the doorway caught his eye. Breaking his concentration, "Bruce." he paused, fighting a smile. "I know you're there"

"Nothing gets past you, Kent" the man himself acknowledged, shuffling farther into the room.

Clark didn't miss a beat, "I could say the same thing about you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've made a spontaneous discovery."

Clark thought to control his spark of interest, holding his gaze on the spreadsheet in front of him. "I think Lex has something to do with this."

"I'm all ears," Clark breathed, absentmindedly and so damn imbursed into his work.

"Amanda Waller was killed last night."

That got his attention, his blue eyes flew up to look at Bruce glowing with true surprise.

Clark's throat dried, "You're kidding?"

"I wouldn't dare." Bruce quipped, sliding into the chair opposite him.

"What happened?"

"The news reports say it was an animal attack, but given how her heart was ripped from her chest my bet is that this was completely intentional; like the killer wanted to get caught. "

Unbelievable, once again the general public were treating this like something straight out of _The Virgin Suicides_ and once again Superman would be ridiculed for being unable to help someone who was clearly in need of his assistance.

Clark's guilt flared to life.

"I should've done something, I could've stopped it."

"There was nothing you could've done. Superman can't be everywhere at once, none of us can. I learnt that a long time ago. Loss is just apart of the deal, that being said no matter the differences that me and Waller had... I wouldn't of wished such a brutal end on my worst enemy."

"That's _not_ true and you know it Bruce."

Bruce said nothing, but his eyes said it all. Sometimes silence was an answer within itself. Bruce's tactic was simple, _S_ _earch And Destroy_. Everyone knew Batman, a bat descended straight from of the fires of hell. It was surprising to Clark how he hadn't done what most damaged souls would do; chosen the path of darkness and turned their backs on the idea of heroism altogether.

Perhaps it was because Bruce believed in something better for all of them. Clark wondered if being heartless was hereditary. He'd be the same if he'd watched his parent's assassination first hand. Bruce Wayne, had been a young boy with stars in his eyes who had, had his whole life yanked away from him but it had lead him down the path that he had needed to walk to become the man he was today. A shameless playboy trillionaire with the world on a string, someone who gave back to the people. But someone who was also void of a soul. Bruce was hard as nails.

It was the way he'd had to be.

Clark watched as Bruce took his iPad from him, and suddenly wished that he was gone, that he could weather the storm of his guilt on his own.

"Everything that is entered into the media spectrum is clocked in to the second. Take a look at these." Bruce rasped, sliding over another few sheets of research. Clark found his eyes trailing down to the papers before him, spread before him like a lamb to the slaughter.

 _My, my..._

"You've been busy." Clark said, matter of factly.

"And you've been seriously slacking." Bruce answered, harshly. With particular disdain, but he didn't look domineering or arrogant. His eyes appeared honest, his face solemn. It was a twisted way of proclaiming his rumpled emotions. And that was even worse.

Clark looked down, letting out a long breath.

"Lois again?" Clark stared up at him then, his eyes stony.

"Were not discussing that." Clark stated, hard and final. This was the side to Bruce that Clark hated the most, the observant paranoid part. The part that didn't know when to stop! to leave well enough alone. It was that same obsessive passion that had started The Justice League of America in the first place. Bruce gave him a queer look before deciding to let it go. _There's a first,_ Clark thought.

"What does _this_ mean Bruce?" Clark asked, growing impatient and taking the conversation away from the unsafe topic that was one Lovely Lois Lane.

"I don't know. But I have a theory, I think Lex is keeping something that has the potential to be a threat to us all." Bruce expanded, he steadied his breath his chilled demeanor as gelid as ever.

 _Well, this would certainly be a game changer._

"What... like a secret weapon?"

"It's quite possible, that would explain why the lines on here are all over the place. I've never seen anything like it." Bruce answered, his face deadpan.

"What do you think it is?" Clark asked, bemused.

"I don't know, but with these stats this thing is quite powerful. Strong. Maybe even as strong as you." Clark regarded his friend carefully, assessing his blank tone. "So..." Clark trailed of, raking fingers gone cold through his dark hair.

" _This_ could mean trouble for us." Bruce said, with a finality that set his world on fire. This could only mean one thing...

They were in way over their heads.

:::

 ** _April 18th_ _, 2016: The Daily Planet_**

 _Present day . . ._

You can't really know a place without exploring every crevice of it, every nook and cranny behind the shadow of it, on your own.

 _The Daily Planet was another world._

It was made up of three different buildings: The Magazine editorial section, Dexter Hall, the news room area, which held all the meetings and recreational centers. When Clark had first started out there, he had seen much of the inside, and the thought of just being a Kansas, country bumpkin who was apparently going to make something off himself had been attractive within itself. There were good days, and like any other workplace there were bad days. Clark had found this out the hard way. Which was what what put Clark in the predicament he was in right now. Watching a grey haired man, with middle age spread stub out a thick Cuban.

God, what a schmuck.

"I don't get it, Chief." Clark remarked. Because he didn't. An interview with Sarge Steel, the director of Meta Human affairs was a rarity within itself. It was like picking an apple of a pear tree. As the government's law enforcement arm specifically tasked with dealing with metahumans, Clark wondered if the focus of the article should be narrowed more to the department's involved with just Metas known to frequent Metropolis.

The paper was called The "Daily" Planet after all ... no pun intended.

Bruce would be chomping at the bit in glee right about now. That would be if Bruce had any feelings at all.

"What don't you get?" Perry White growled at him, enunciating each word with rattle snake venom. "Find out their official stance on Superman first, then the metas in Metropolis, then whatever else he gives you time for. We know what sells papers… Superman. Get it done."

Clark felt a little apprehensive. He hated asking questions about himself, or rather his other self. It felt slightly dishonest for some reason.

He walked back to his desk wondering how he was going to phrase the question. His practiced slouch, part of his experienced routine when in the office as a mild mannered reporter, became a little bit more pronounced when he wondered how he was going to react to the answers. It was a tactic that stopped questions from being raised.

Lois Lane was giving him a look of unadulterated loathing. She was angry that she wasn't given the assignment for the Sarge Steel interview. Clark knew she would have hounded the director about the department's stance on the Man of Steel like a rabid wolf hound.

Perry knew it too.

That was most likely why he was given the assignment. A bad interview with the Director of the DMA would most likely mean no more interviews until that position changed hands. Lois reacted like a shark that tasted blood in the water whenever another reporter narrowed in on Superman. She saw Superman as her exclusive domain in the paper.

It wasn't fair, but as Clark disliked interviewing himself, he was happy to let her have as many Superman stories as she wanted. She always looked at Superman with her doe eyes. Usually with Clark the look was of indifference. But when the big stories came along (especially anything with Pulitzer Prize material) indifference turned to loathing. Lois was a powerhouse, a formidable woman dead set on success and she'd be damned if she let anyone come between herself and her career. Superman was just a convenience to her, an opportunity. He knew that now. He had used to have somewhat of a crush on Lois when he first started out at The Daily Planet, dancing around her like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, and stars in his eyes. But it soon became painfully apparent that she would never look at Clark Kent the same way, she would only ever have eyes for the _other guy._

It had hit Clark hard at first but he had found away to get over it.

He'd had too.

Besides Clark had bigger problems these days both in the work place and as Superman, example being the killer that the media was now calling The Passion Fruit Ripper.

A problem they'd been having for the past two years. It was clear that the beast was meta that much was obvious, but it was something else too.

This was beyond just super strength or mind control for that matter. The motherfu- ... the inconvenience was just to damn fast for even him to catch. They would be gone just the way they killed, silent and fast. And every time it looked like he was getting somewhere the door would slam shut back in his face again. The worst part of it was that Superman and The Justice League were the ones catching all the heat for it.

Bruce was outraged, he had set the whole league on it. Every failure they met making Bruce all the more hungry for vengeance.

Clark cracked his knuckles before setting out designing his article template. He motored through the article until it became apparent that it was fit to print, normally at home he could take less care. Throw caution to the wind and use his gift of super speed to get the article done in less than two minutes but here was a different story.

Clark went over his notes again. He had two other stories he was working on, but the interview was imminent, and since he would have very limited time with the director he wanted to hit as many points as he could. His extension rang, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and answered.

"Daily Planet, Kent speaking."

"Yes, Mr Kent." A shrill secretary's voice answered. "Is our representative there yet?"

"Representative..." Clark said. His reporter's instinct told him he just got snubbed. "I was to have an interview with Director Steel."

"I'm afraid there has been a change of plans," the secretary's voice said in a clipped tone. "We have sent along one of Director Steel's trusted lietenuants. Have her call in when she arrives." Then the line went dead.

Clark was left incredulous.

 _You need a vacation, Kent._

Clark mused to himself, leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers on the table. Unconsciously and ever the day dreamer, his eyes flayed to the window to see a sleek black Bugatti pulling up at the curb. A woman stepped out of it, her stature the picture of authority. Clark licked his lips, eyes trailing down to the tight fabrics of her skirt, stretching tight over her bottom. He'd always had a thing for brunettes - _Superman_ _had a thing for the damsels, really -_ But this one had striking eyes hidden behind thick black spectacles, a crisp and measured walk that tugged at something inside of him. He inched closer to the window, but she disappeared before he could get a good look. She was coming into the building.

"Kent, get over here!" a fearsome order barked; right on cue, and he knew instantaneously that the voice belonged to Perry. Clark did look up then, back going up like a soldier called to attention. He was out of his seat and rushing to Perry like a servant to an heir's beck and call. Perry gestured for Clark to follow him, and Clark snatched up the nearest pad and pen he could see.

Perry was sprouting all sorts at him. His mouth going what seemed a million miles a minute, and if he wasn't so sharp he would've thought he were talking in tongues. Clark hummed at Perry's last comment - something about "And don't do that thing when you space out on people kid."

"Wouldn't want to put the wrong people's backs up, Chief." Clark said watching his editor's face return to it's normal countenance.

"Right you are Kent. Right you are." Perry chided, his response instantaneous. The two of them stopped right in front of the elevator just as it pinged and opened and that was the moment that Clark lost all air.

Blood rising under his skin.

A tall woman stepped off of the elevator, perfectly balanced in her black pumps. Her legs bronze and long. As she approached closer he realized that her hair was black; not the dark raven he had thought it to be and the eyes... the eyes were a striking cornflour blue.

Clark swore that his heart stuttered to a stop at the sight.

"Clark I'd like to introduce you to Agent Diana Prince. She's an ambassador at Metahuman affairs."

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Kent"

* * *

 **Things to know before you read this story:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Diana has been asleep for 100 years, found years later by MetaHuman Affairs she is told that she was found in a block of ice not far from the Arctic Ocean. Lex Luthor a scientist at the time at DOMA explains Diana's situation to her and she is shocked to discover that she can only remember elements of who she is. This chapter basically takes you through the series of events that lead up to present time. Which we will be continuing on from next chapter.

Like the New52 version Diana is a Goddess, daughter of Zeus and born on Themyscira. But when her mother dies in childbirth, Zeus takes her to Mount Olympus where she is raised by her aunts and siblings before she enters into Man's World.

Thoughts? ...

 **Special Thanks:** I'd like to say thank you to Torrin-El for giving me feedback on how I can improve.


	2. First Meet

II

First Meet

:::

 _April 18th, 2016: The Daily Planet_

 _(Present day)_

 _"Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Kent."_

She said taking his hand in hers and shaking it firmly.

Agent Prince's eyes were sucking him in. No, in fact the very sight of her was sucking him in. Her eyes looked out over the news room from behind rather thick glasses. Sure, she was mousy looking but it wasn't in a weird or unattractive way. It was strangely intriguing. She was tall and staid in her flat shoes and sported a rather drab, professional looking dark suit. A visitors badge was prominent on her sport coat. Her hair tied back in a tight bun, giving her face a rather pinched look. A queenly iciness. Clark was a journalist, he lived for the details and something about the way this woman carried herself told him that this was the armor she had created against the world.

She was an angel, Clark decided.

That he was sure of.

"Kent?" Perry hissed, snapping his fingers in front of the man's face. Much to his dismay, the cracked image of Agent Prince faded away, replaced by the burly, angry project manager next to him. In the three years, that he had been at The Daily Planet, Perry White had been one of the many consistent things in his life - always bearing that prim, grey tuft atop his head and that angry slant on his lips.

But it was enough to have him flustered, Clark blanched for a suspended second, gaping at Perry before turning back to Agent Prince.

"Oh . . . Yeah, right . . . uh . . . the pleasure is all mine . . . Agent Prince." Clark stammered, mentally chastising himself.

He had barely been in the presence of Agent Prince for more than two minutes and he had already been turned into a floundering mess. He could picture Lois rolling her eyes at him now. Clark pursed his lips, straightening himself and picking a stray piece of lint of his own gray suit.

"A representative of your office called, to inform us that Director Steel wouldn't be present today." he said. "They requested that you call when you arrive. You can use my phone if you would like." Agent Prince nodded and thanked him, before politely declining.

"I already made the call," she explained, coolly.

"Right . . . of course you did." Clark murmured more to himself than her, Agent Prince had really pretty eyes. It took him a moment to realize that he was still staring.

"Christ," Perry grumbled, wedging himself between the pair and speaking directly to Agent Prince. "You'll have to remind me to send my regards to Mr Steel, for allowing us to proceed with such a fetching opportunity."

"Certainly, Mr White. An interview with The Daily Planet is most definitely an opportunity one could simply not pass up." The way she spoke, it was like something he had never heard before. It was rich, and sultry and something achingly exotic _._ Perry seemed to be analyzing Agent Prince, just as much as he. The only difference being was that he was not bothering to hide the fact that he was blatantly attracted to her.

The bastard was like a dog with a bone.

"Indeed, Miss Prince. The pressures of this industry can be quite daunting." Perry flirted, "Although I'm sure an attractive young woman like yourself can handle it." The man was absolutely shameless.

To say Clark was grossed out would be an understatement, he was out right disgusted. Perry White, a cherry hound. The thought in itself was truly sickening, Clark was just glad that Agent Prince seemed way to smart to be sucked into that sort of madness. Not at all like the Cat Grant's or Linda McAllistor's of the world.

"Some people have bark, Mr White. Some people have bite. I have both." Agent Prince replied, Perry grinned, and he hated it.

"Fascinating."

Agent Prince hummed, "Indeed, is that what a man of your senior looks for in his women?" she asked, neither accusatory nor simply. Clark pursed his lips, quelling down the urge to smile. There was no missing the way the elder man squirmed, just as blown away by her bluntness as he. Clark, however found himself all the more curious about her.

Just as he'd suspected, Agent Prince was way to apt for the big fries of Metropolis like Perry White. That had to be a major blow to any man's ego; Perry straightened, smiling tightly toward Agent Prince before setting his wrinkled gaze on him.

"Kent, why don't you take Agent Prince down to the 3rd street diner across the street." he said, "Olsen has taken the conference room for the Rhett Jenkins interview." With that being said Perry shoved a recorder into his hands, Clark frowned, his fingertip skirting over the edge of it's metals. His eyes darted to the conference room that had been meant to be set aside for the Sarge Steel interview and Clark cringed when he realized that Jimmy Olsen was evolving from a pity project into a - _God_ \- a friend.

He almost rolled his eyes, his mind conjuring up the image of one auburn haired Olsen, a loopy-grinned individual with his tie loosened around his neck.

"You're on the clock." Perry explained, tapping the black Baume & Mercier around his wrist. Clark parted his lips, his neck beating red.

He resisted the urge to give him the finger.

"Roger that, Chief." Clark said tightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. Clark wanted to know what he wanted from him. It had to be a game he was playing because he knew he wouldn't rise to the bait, because he had the upper hand. Perry turned as if to leave, before stopping and setting his sparkling glare on Clark.

"Get what you can get Kent. Not everyday merits an extra edition." he said so only he could hear, his tone cutting and sharp. A faux smile was plastered on Perry's face, a sneer hidden behind it. He wondered if Perry would play with his food before ripping into him later. _Definitely door number two,_ he mused, crossly to himself.

Clark swallowed as Perry backed away, casting Agent Prince a small smile. She smiled politely in return.

He clenched his jaw. "Fantastic," he murmured, under his breath some of his earlier confidence fading. One of these days he would not be able to stop himself from wringing Perry White's neck. It was that simple.

"I hope everything is alright," came Agent Prince's voice once White was out of ear shot.

Clark exhaled through his nose, "I was about to say the same thing." she waited for him to respond, but he only continued with a small smirk. "Today must be Wednesday."

Agent Prince nodded, then shook her head, desperate to regain focus. "I am sorry that Director Steel was unable to make the trip."

"These things happen," Clark replied, "Is my interview with you still on track."

"Certainly, Mr Kent," Agent Prince replied, earnestly. "Rest assured, I was given a few more tasks to complete while I am in Metropolis."

"I see." Clark answered. He was not a second offbeat, if anything conversation seemed to be coming seamlessly between them.

Agent Prince smiled, almost imperceptibly, but he caught it. "And what of Mr White, is he always so brash?"

"Trust me, you get use to him" He chuckled, gesturing for her to follow him into the elevator. Just being in the presence of her was already starting to lift his mood. "That or you'll just end up killing him."

:::

 ** _3rd Street Diner_**

 _(Upper state, Metropolis)_

Ninth Street Espresso was the go to place for any journalist after hours. In respect, it was the go to place for anyone who wanted a quiet break away from the hustle and bustle of the city that never slept. The sanctuary for the timorous, the book worms, the giggling teenage girls. The gossip queens.

"Coffee?" Clark asked, rubbing his palms together in hopes that they would stop sweating.

Superman didn't sweat, but Clark Kent sure as hell did. Especially in the presence of a woman as fair as she.

"Please." she answered, "Black with two sugars." Clark nodded absently, offering her a small smile before leading Agent Prince to a table just outside the winsome cafe. He pulled out her chair for her, an old habit he picked up in Kansas. Agent Prince took the chair graciously, though with a raised eyebrow. Diana's eyes went vacant as she tapped her nails on the edge of the coffee table, legs crossing and uncrossing as she watched him duck inside the petite bar. Her ears picked up on his order, two fruit pots, one ice Mocha and a two sugared black coffee to go.

Super hearing was actually quite hard to turn off, but for moments like these it came in handy. Especially if he wanted to try something completely devious like drugging her drink.

Kent returned in no time at all, "Black . . . two sugars" he said, calling her to attention. Diana swallowed as Kent's eyes brightened, holding her gaze. He set down their orders carefully and Diana grabbed for her beverage gratefully.

She inhaled sharply . . .

 _Clean._

"Thank you," she said, finally. "It's perfect."

She sipped it carefully, taking a gulp of liquid courage before glancing up at Mr Kent. Blue febrile eyes gazed back at her, an intense kind of stare that sucked the air out of the room before rushing it back in, he had the most oceanic eyes, and she could swear that they were sucking her in. They were bottomless, and the look in them terrified her.

She swept her tongue out over her lips, and Kent watched.

Diana swallowed, remembering exactly why she was here in the first place. Lex had forewarned her about this, about the tricks that he would try to play on her mind. That they all would. The Justice League of America, or _The Muts_ as Lex was so fond of calling them couldn't be trusted.

 _Superman._

Couldn't be trusted, and Clark Kent was equivalent to Superman.

Diana forced her eyes back down to the mug sitting snugly in her hands. He cleared his throat, before announcing the interviews commencement and with the press of the button on his tape recorder, they were in action.

Kent pushed through his initial questions rapidly, unsure of how much time he might have for the interview. He crossed the big two questions Perry had given him with as much depth has he dared or could stand. The DMA would admit to no official policy regarding Superman, though since that single fact wasn't likely to sell a single newspaper, he decided to pursue the angle along a different track.

He asked about any concerns that the department might have about the various abilities the Man of Steel possessed, and if they might have any unknown side effects (concerns that he, privately, worried about).

He inquired about the various menaces that had sprouted up after Superman, and in some cases owing to specific ties to the Man of Steel's weakness: Kryptonite. This man, was asking questions about collateral damage, and the victims of MetaHuman clashes, or "events" as the public relations people wanted them to start calling it. He asked questions about reforming some of those powered individuals that were on the wrong side of the law, and how to inspire metahumans to be better than they are, both enemy and ally.

Diana had to give it to him, the man was good.

But she was better.

"Mediocrity is not an option for us. We don't want that, and neither should you." She interrupted, quirking her lips.

Clark watched her, his eyes sparkling with interest. Her answers were engaging and most of all … wise.

Often, government personnel he interviewed seemed to give the same answers, calculated to be brief, and utmost, not arouse anger or controversy. Placid answers that stretched the definition of the word. But this woman spoke with passion about the people in the world that heroes worked so hard to protect, and villains were all too ready to harm. She spoke about hope for a better future, without any fear mongering or the sacrificing of principles.

It was by far the most refreshing interview he had conducted for a long time. It far surpassed the hopes he had for the initial interview with Sarge Steel.

She was . . .

"Incredible."

Agent Prince blinked and let out a breathy little laugh, "What?"

Clark blanched, realizing his mistake. It took him a moment to realize that he'd murmured the words aloud, someone could've thrown ice water over him and he still wouldn't of been able to will his mouth to move. "Oh," Clark stammered, rather dumbly. "My apologies," not that, that had been any better. He prayed in vain that his embarrassment hadn't made it to his cheeks, and if it had Agent Prince was clearly to polite to say anything.

He appreciated that, because if it had been Lois he wouldn't of heard the end of it.

"I never took you for a fantasist, Mr Kent." Agent Prince, acknowledged and tucked a stray strand of raven away from her face. He wondered what she would do if he went completely crazy and did it for her.

However, the words continued to tumble from his mouth, digging him further and further into the hole he had already stupidly dug for himself. "Uh . . . A what?"

"A day dreamer."

He quirked a brow, clearly surprised by her analysis of the situation. The woman was smart, too smart for her own good. It was impressive, as much as it was compelling.

"Am I really that obvious?" Clark breathed, mad at himself. Mad at Perry. But the up side was that at least he had enough knowledge to scoop a story and keep Bruce quiet for a little while.

Agent Prince went silent for some time and feeling more than the idiot, he busied himself alternating between jotting down notes and picking at his fruit pot. He was knocked out of his _pretend_ musing by her voice.

"Your secret's safe with me." Her blue eyes were serious as she said it, and it almost forced the air to lock up in his lungs. The more he got to talk to her, the more amazed he was by her. Her honor, her sincerity. She was stirring something within him, something he hadn't felt in three years.

He parted his lips, let out a breath. "Clark."

Agent Prince gave him a curious look. Before parting her lips in question. "You can call me Clark," he solicited.

She responded in kind, her eyes alight with something he couldn't quite place. "Very well." she finally murmured. Clark shook his head, ducking his head to hide his smile. He wondered what her name was, he wouldn't threat though, he would get that out of her sooner or later. He found the genuineness of this woman endearing. Too often since coming to the city he was awash with fast talkers or gilded personalities; people who only wished to be an echo of what was trendy or on the cover of a magazine. This woman was refreshing.

The reporter's pad that held his notes for the interview was out on the table, but cast aside and forgotten. Perry would have his guts for garters if he didn't wrap this up, but he couldn't get enough of her.

He wanted to learn about her. To learn what was behind the suit, behind the ambassador persona.

He wanted to know . . . the woman.

"So . . . what of you, what does Clark Kent, the big shot journalist get up to when his not in the suit?" She sounded truly curious, her voice dropping low in the silent summer air. Clark thought for a moment before responding, considering the answer to her question.

He thought better of it.

"Nothing that would be of interest, I'm quite boring." Clark sniffed, tucking the tape recorder into his messenger bag. Clark licked his lips as he returned to his fruit pot, popping a strawberry slice into his mouth and letting a bit of the juice dribble to his clefted chin. It was horrifyingly adorable, and Diana forced herself to look away when he licked it off.

"Does that surprise you?" he said after a moment.

"Not in the slightest." She answered, evenly. "Besides everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, right Mr. Kent?" Clark's eyes widened, and Diana was pleased by his momentary panic. It was a new thing that she was trying, being more brazen with her words, aiming to shock. Metropolis was slackening its grip around her throat with every passing day. She watched as his mind raced, his jaw clenching in defense.

The tables had turned, and now it was her turn to ask the questions. She watched as he mentally prepared himself for his answer, meticulously choosing his next words carefully before smirking, "I wouldn't know . . . I'm a kind of _live by the book_ type of guy."

She tried for a smile, "Sometimes it's the best way." was the only comeback she could force to presence.

"What about you?"

Diana raised an eyebrow, "Pardon?"

"What's behind the suit?"

"Nothing very interesting." Diana insisted, something shifting in her eyes, like she couldn't find her role in the aforementioned saga of _life_ either. She swallowed, parting her lips but saying nothing. Clark waited for her to go on, but he could tell that it was all she was going to give away.

"Really?" he asked a moment later, not quite believing his ears. "You strike me as a kind of _live by the moment_ type of gal, surely someone as put together as you has a life." Clark watched as her cheeks flamed red, relishing in it. She tensed, avoiding his eyes.

"It's sad but true." she stated, jaw tense, hands clasped.

"Well, when you put it like that,"

"Women often feel they have to choose between smart or sexy." she said, "This interview says you can be both of those things. You can be fabulous and fearless,"

"Touché."

Diana laughed a little, shaking her head. "You are something else aren't you."

"You have no idea," he chuckled. Clark watched her for a while, something seemed to be passing between them. Her façade of prim ice and perfection was cracking now, noticeable only to those who could recognize it in themselves.

Clark noticed.

Agent Prince's hand traced the china of her mug, fingers feeling what wasn't there. Emptiness collided with torment in her eyes and her smile faltered like happiness didn't belong to her. And when he looked at her, Clark saw himself. She must've realized that he was analyzing her because the guarded expression returned, her eyes clouding over until it was nothing more than the cool ease from before.

Clark wanted to see her smile again.

"Charming," she murmured, finally getting up from her seat. It was then that his hand darted out of it's own accord, his fingers grasping her wrist before she could go. Diana stared down at his hands, losing her breath.

 _What game did he think he was playing?_

"I'll walk you to your car." Clark's brow almost crinkled at the softness in his own voice, and he quickly snapped out of it, grasping for his signature shrewdness. Agent Prince straightened slightly, rosy lips curling up to reveal dimples. _Yep_ , Clark thought, he was definitely in trouble.

Agent Prince regarded him for a while, her brilliant eyes searching his.

"Thank you," Diana said carefully, extricating herself from his grip. He stood up to face her, glancing down at her lips. Diana tightened her fists, realizing what he was doing, apparently he realized too. For he took a few steps back, keeping a respectable distance between them. The last thing they needed was to make this a personal affair, but he couldn't see what was so wrong with that.

He threw down a couple of bills, leaving a generous tip, and shoved his writing pad in his bag. Agent Prince remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. She could not figure him out. Usually she would consider herself excellent at reading people, would learn the measure of a person by the way they talked, how they carried themselves. But this man held the door for her when they left, he was kind to her, he smelled . . . good. She was dwarfed compared to him, which was odd because usually she towered over people. He was a statue wrapped in a painting in a frame made of muscles, and not even an over sized suit could hide that. It didn't make sense, so this had to be a facade to mask the ticking time bomb behind the suit.

Humans were incredibly ignorant little things, it didn't take a genius to know the secret behind the glasses.

Clark fell into step beside her, and realized that he didn't want the day to end. Diana looked at this unassuming man and knew that this wouldn't be the last time they saw each other.

"I should get these notes to Perry, his going to be tearing his hair out," Clark marveled, as they approached her car.

"I can imagine," she said, a little laugh under her breath.

"Guess the day just kind of ran away with us,"

"Guess it did."

"Do you have enough for your story?" she asked looking in his eyes hidden behind his glasses.

"Quite enough," Clark said sheepishly, "Actually, it will be hard to trim down to an interview. I probably have enough to fill a book," he said running his hand along the back of his head with an embarrassed grin. This woman was fascinating and he wanted to see her again. He risked yet another question for the day, "what are your plans for the rest of your trip?"

"Well," Diana said, tucking a few stray hairs into her bun, "I suppose I should take the chance to see the city. I have a little bit of work to do, but I should have enough time to take in the sites. Who knows, I might even get a chance to see Superman."

"Metropolis is a pretty big place," Clark said disheartened for a moment at another woman who seemed interested in Superman, "It could take a while to see them." He thought for a moment that he, Clark, would really enjoy more time with this extraordinary woman. "I would be happy to show you around though," he plunged ahead, "If you would have me for a guide." he offered rather sweetly.

"I'm a very independent woman and I agree Metropolis is a big city. But, I'll _consider_ it." she thought another day spent with this man would be time well spent. Besides, It was her decree.

Clark's lips lifted into a devastating crooked grin. "So, is that your way of saying yes?"

"That's my way of saying maybe."

"Sounds like you're saying yes."

"Maybe."

"Definitely a yes."

"Gods, you are incorrigible." Diana breathed. They were silent for a moment as she exhaled, her pink glossed lips pinching together as she gathered her bearings. He watched her, feeling a scandalous ounce of appreciation. She tucked her clutch under her arm, and flipped a brown curl away from her cheek, and his stomach twisted, his heart jumped at the sight. But it only brought a beam to his face.

"I can be." he said after a while, the words drawn out and meticulous.

Diana breathed a small sigh as they exchanged a fueled stare. "Goodbye, Clark." She murmured, as her valet came around to open the door for her and just as she made to duck into her car, Clark's voice rang out through the hustle and bustle of the Metropolis streets.

"What's your name?"

He watched as a shadow passed over Agent Prince's features, one that lit those brilliant eyes up with a playfulness that looked good on her. "If I tell you, what would be the fun in that, Clark Kent." Clark waited for her to respond, but she only continued with a small smirk, "Until . . . I consider it."

And with that Agent Prince swept away, her car peeling away from the pavement. Leaving Clark wondering if he had imagined the whole thing. Had that really just happened, had his life really just changed so drastically in the space of three hours. Clark shook his head, raking a hand through his hair as he watched her go. He waited until her car had safely disappeared into the flock of yellow cabs before pulling his own notes from the messenger bag at his side. Mercifully the city of Metropolis did not require any salvation, and thankfully for him that meant that he would deliver his discoveries to Perry by the skin of his teeth. But Clark remained glued to his spot lost in thought and one Agent Prince imprinted on his mind.

To say that time ran away with him would be an understatement, he completely spaced.

He felt a bit nostalgic.

He refused to believe that this was the last time he'd see her, something in his waters was telling him that this was only just the beginning. And one simply didn't just pop an eighty two Bordeaux because it's on the shelf. He was going to know her, was going to figure out the woman behind the suit until he knew her better than he knew himself. He wanted that, and he wanted to see her poised and perfect feathers ruffled.

There was something happening. The fates had cooked up something, and that something obviously had a plan for him. But he knew one thing for sure, Agent Prince would be in his dreams tonight.

 _Rao,_ Clark thought to himself.

What a woman.

:::

Diana's shoulders hunched, glasses came off and a mane of dark curls fell down to her shoulders as she let down her chignon. Something about being in the presence of this... Superman had left her shaken. This Clark Kent, this . . . Superman acted like one of the humans. He pretended to be normal when he wasn't, she had to know why. Diana was _terrified._ Terrified of the way his touch lit her skin aflame, petrified when a simple glance from him sent her guarded heart astray. If he was fire, she was a pyromaniac. And to love the blaze was to get burned.

She snapped open her cell, still only getting use to how these modern day devices worked.

The chips were falling into place, and she was steadily easing Superman right to the place that she wanted him. But to say his name, Gods to even think it would be an acknowledgement that she was not willing to make.

 _Mind games._ Diana thought to herself. _Definitely mind games._

Her decree was simple. Get in, get out. She had been preparing for this for three years and she'd be damned if _their_ plan failed at her expense.

Furthermore, she was forever in Luthor's debt, he had promised her that he would help her find out what happened to her. Find out how she ended up comatose in that block of ice all those years ago.

Luthor may have rescued her from a bemusing life of fear and dubiety but she was no imbecile.

This was a tit for tat situation.

She helped him. He gave her the access to a thing of her past. A photograph. And hopefully the key to unlocking an endless stream of stray memories.

Her thumbs hit the buttons of the device, and sent a single text.

 _Were in._

* * *

 **Authors Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. So chapter two is here! Clark has already developed a "crush" on Diana, Diana may be brainwashed but she's not stupid. She knows Luthor holds the access to everything, she also believes that she is in Luthor's debt because he saved her from a life of fear, especially since she can only remember elements of her life. I usually prefer to do angst over fluff, so I'm glad that you guys are appreciating the style change. Please keep the reviews coming, as they completely make my day while I'm nearly falling asleep in morning classes. Also, just a side note with Diana being a demi goddess and all regardless of whether she is dressed in her Diana Prince persona, she's bound to have that unnatural sexual allure going on.

Thoughts? ...

 **Special Thanks:** I'd like to say thank you to the support I have gotten for this story and the reviews! Expect a new chapter in about a week or a week and a half. Much love!


	3. Her Name Is Diana

III

Her Name Is Diana

:::

 _April 19th, 2016: The Daily Planet_

 _(The following day)_

"I've had it" Olsen quipped, pushing away from his desk, and sinking further into his office chair. "I need to get laid. All work and no play is turning me into . . . You,"

Clark rolled his eyes as he tapped away at his computer, his fingers clicking against the keys like an annoying tick. Jimmy Olsen was one infuriating bastard and friend or not Clark was only just starting to realize this. It wasn't that Jimmy didn't mean well, he did. But he also had this terrible tendency of making an outrageous habit of saying the wrong things to people. Often putting his foot in his mouth, or better yet landing Clark in the doghouse right along with him.

"Gee Jim, I uh . . . don't know what to say . . . thanks" Clark retorted mockingly, taking a moment to crack his knuckles.

"We need to do something this weekend," Olsen concluded, with an impish note of determination to his voice. "Have a bros night out. Hit up club 88, _Hey,_ we could even invite Dawson and Elliot."

Clark hummed distractedly, clicking away at his computer mouse. That was not even remotely close to where his mind was at. For the last twenty four hours he had practically been cyber stalking Agent Prince. He had told himself that it wasn't stalking, it was simply _researching_ but he knew he was only fooling himself. Of course, pulling up unorthodox information had not been the most easiest of tasks and he had needed to use his Kryptonian software to pull up her profile; but he had persevered in the end. Not one of his finer moments, but at least he could address her by her forename now. Her name was _Diana_. She was a transfer from the South Eastern European department of MetaHuman Affairs and spoke an impressive quantity of five different languages. She was a vegetarian; and she was feisty and headstrong.

Clark liked that.

But there was something more than that. There was something about her, something just under the surface, something unique from anyone he had ever encountered before.

"I just, need a woman's touch y'know." Olsen soldiered on, "Christ, I want . . . That." he added, glancing at something that Clark couldn't see and successfully snapping him from his reverie. Clark glanced up to seek out what had peaked Jimmy's interest. He watched as Lois Lane got up from her desk and walked out of the newsroom, making her butt waggle in her short skirt as she walked past them. Several men's heads turned to take in the sight as she left. Jimmy's included. Once upon a time that would've made his blood boil; would've had him gripping onto his coffee mug just that little bit tighter, but now it was simply hereditary.

Clark looked back to the device in front of him, imbursed in his studying. He wondered if Diana Prince would take him up on his offer.

"Holy guacamole" Jimmy whistled, lurching over to invade Clark's privacy, as apposed to his dignity. Clark looked up with a start and blushed. For once he didn't need to remind himself to act embarrassed as part of his charade. _Jesus,_ Clark thought to himself tensing as the realization hit him that he had failed epically at hiding operation _research_ Agent Prince.

"What a dime. Who is that?"

"The Agent Perry brought in yesterday. She came in to replace Sarge Steel because he couldn't make the interview." Clark explained.

"Christ, she is a fine one isn't she." Jimmy said, rhetorically. "Think she'd give the old Jimster a go?"

"Not likely."

"Come on, you know I'm a stud." Jimmy laughed, excitedly. "She won't be able to turn _this_ down."

Clark didn't like the idea of that. It could've been a joke, but Olsen sounded serious and a little to interested for his liking. "No." Clark said a little to quickly, Olsen raised a red eyebrow at him before his freckly face broke out into a complacent grin. _Damn him,_ Clark seethed to himself.

"Well I'll be damned," Olsen snorted, incredulously. "Someone's hot for the Agent."

Clark blushed to the roots of his hairline. Surely he wasn't that conspicuous. _Was he?_

"That's a very active imagination you have there Jim." he said carefully, in an attempt to compose himself and maintain what little dignity he had left.

"Baloney, Kent." Jimmy chaffed. "It's written all over your face."

"Whatever you say Jim." Clark retorted, fighting a smile.

"I don't blame you, the Agent's hot." Jimmy said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't think twice about bending her over my desk."

Clark stiffened. _Alas,_ and there it was, the outrageous habit brought forth by the terrible tendency. He let out a laugh that lacked the humor, shooting Olsen a smirk that did not quite reach his eyes, "Yeah, keep dreaming Jim."

"Is that jealousy I detect?"

"You're abhorrent."

"And _you,_ have a terrible poker face."

Clark waved him away, reaching for the pen atop his final edit as Jimmy sang juvenile songs about him and Agent Prince sitting in a tree. God, what was he, in the second grade? Clark shot him a look in warning as he scratched out some of the unethical parts of his story.

"I never took you as a fan of the secret service," Jimmy wittered on, teasingly. "That'll go down well with Perry."

Clark opened his mouth, but before he could murmur a defensive response, Jimmy groaned, glancing over his shoulder.

"Speak of the devil and doth he appear," Jimmy coughed as Perry barreled up to their desks, a pinched scowl on his face. If he was seething it couldn't be at him, he had done his bit. Clark himself was just thankful that he had gotten the article to Perry in the nick of time, yesterday. Unless Perry was thinking to juxtapose that of course. It was fucking ridiculous, really.

"Kent, Olsen. I need a 411 on the Rhett Jenkins case." Perry commanded, fiercely. Not even giving them the chance to catch their breaths; this was getting to be a joke but if he was being honest with himself, they were all in the same position. They all had bills to pay and Clark simply took Perry's crap because he knew if he hit Perry he would risk breaking his neck, or worse.

"It'll be on your desk by the end of the day, Chief." Clark said, tightly.

Jimmy piped up instantaneously, "Oh," Olsen murmured, braving a comeback. "Well, Mr Jenkins was very specific about the questions he would answer honestly." Perry's eyes flitted to the red head.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Jimbo" a sinister smile curled on his lips. "One can only imagine what it would do to an Olsen," Jimmy startled, retracting his inquiry immediately. Jimmy had always been all mouth and no trousers, it was one of his _funniest_ qualities. With that Perry gave him a hard look before swanning off, no doubt to give someone else a hard time.

"I promise you, one day." Jimmy said after a moment, his eyes glued to the spot that had Perry just stood in.

Clark let out a breathy little laugh, "I'll hold you to that, Jim."

"You know I'll do it," Jimmy preached, "Later, Kent." he added, picking up his papers and backing out of the newsroom.

Clark glanced around, then leaned in closer to his computer. He smirked, fingers poised over the mouse. His eyes twinkled, his mouth lifting up into a wide smile. He caught his reflection in the silver lamp that hung on his desk and almost frowned. He looked like a toddler on Christmas, his eyes wide and glowing as if Diana Prince were some sort of prize. Clark silently scolded himself, sobering his expression as he picked up his office telephone.

He had a phone call to make.

:::

 _ **The Casanova Hotel: Diana's Hotel Room**_

In her hotel room Diana was still in her silk pajamas. It had been a late night, and she hadn't even gotten a lot of work done. She had spent a good deal of it reading the stories in the Daily Planet Archives by Clark Kent. She was astounded by his bravery in fearlessly reporting on the crime rampant in Suicide Slum, and moved by the humanity in his piece on an old midtown theater, the Apex, that was being torn down.

He had interviewed a few of the old stars that had worked on her stage and wanted to give the old building a last curtain call. He had done some foreign correspondence as well reporting on the humanitarian efforts of Doctors Without Borders and the tragedy of child soldiers in the conflicts overseas.

Now as Diana poured over her reports from the DOMA she couldn't seem to keep her mind off of the seemingly simple reporter. Clearly, Luthor knew something about him that she didn't, but it was confusing. He seemed so empathetic. How was it possible for an alien to be so . . . human?

Diana moved over to the vanity that was snugly placed in the far side of the room, stopping briefly only to pull her hair back into a neat bun. The telephone rang then and Diana snatched it up before the phone had finished its first trill. "Yes," she said into the phone sharply.

"Agent Prince," came a deep baritone voice from the other end. Diana straightened recognizing the voice instantly, "It's Clark,"

Diana's stomach flipped. She went silent on the line for a moment, contemplating her next move.

"Clark Kent,"

"I know who it is." she responded, how could she possibly not know. Tall, infuriatingly attractive, easy on the eyes, the heart throb of Metropolis, _Superman._ How could she forget? She needed to stay focused, Clark Kent was messing with her mind, it infuriated her. How did one simply manage to twist another's mind in such ways. It didn't make sense, _this_ world didn't make sense.

"When would you like to start your tour?" Clark asked, hoping that an emergency wouldn't call him away.

"You're persistent." she commented, a small smile starting to form on her lips. This was a good thing, it was what she had been hoping to achieve. It meant that she was gaining his trust.

He had a teasing quality to his voice as he asked, "Surprised?"

"Should I be?" she shot back. Skeptically awaiting what he'd say next.

"So . . . your name's Diana." Diana felt worried for a second. She instantly thought of the way he'd touched her hand in the diner yesterday, a heated touch, like he'd wanted to force whatever haunted him right into her. Diana shuddered as if the action was actually possible.

"Surprised?" She queried, throwing his own question back at him.

"I expected no less. _B_ _eautiful_ , elegant, classic. It suits you."

Diana flushed as he spoke, thankful that he couldn't see her right now. He was probably trying to butter her up, she wondered how he had managed to find out her name. From what she understood the DOMA profiles were private. Did the Justice League have that sort of power. If he could find out basic information like that, what else could he find out?

Diana swallowed, "Stalking me are we, Clark?"

"Maybe." he replied honestly, but his voice was airy and relaxed.

"I hope you're aware that's illegal,"

"I suppose this is the part where you recite me my Miranda rights."

"Scared?" Diana challenged, and it was a wonder that she didn't fall down from the enormous chip on her shoulder.

"Terrified." Clark laughed lightly, and the sound vibrated through the phone. It was a rich and hearty sound that tickled against her ear. "So, two o'clock?"

Diana blanched for a suspended second, her heart leaping to her throat. "I . . ."

"What are you afraid of?" Clark's voice came, _warm_ , deep and laced with a dare.

 _You,_ Diana thought to herself. She felt a rush of panic, the control slipping as if it were sand through fragile fingers. The feeling threatened to rise to her throat. This was supposed to be on her terms. Diana straightened, clutching the phone just that little bit tighter, she had this. She was in control, stood on solid ground. "Okay Clark Kent . . ." Diana trailed of holding her breath. "I'm game." she frowned at the lack of social etiquette on her part.

He laughed at that, _this_ man seemed so sure of himself, it was disturbingly intriguing. He went on, persistent. "So, I'll be in the lobby when you're ready" he told her, "Come down whenever."

Diana stiffened, instantly on alert. "How did you know I was in a hotel?"

"I had a feeling." he answered, provocatively. There was a pensive pause and Clark's sigh fanned out through the phone. If she closed her eyes she could imagine him now, windswept dark hair, smoldering blue eyes and a crooked smile.

Diana squashed the image down, burried it. Cremated it even; she didn't have time to dawdle over the antics. This needed to be approached correctly.

"On second thought two o'clock sharp." Clark finally said, suddenly overcome with an ounce of bravery.

"Two o'clock." Diana mirrored, she fought for control. "And what if I'm any later?"

"If you're late I'll come up to get you myself."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

 _Click._

And the line went dead. Diana took the cell from her ear, and glared at it so hard she thought it'd burst into flames. _So,_ the man liked to be in control, she could handle that. Hell she'd practically invented that routine. Where had that bravery sprung from? perhaps she was finally seeing his true self. The persona behind the bumbling reporter act. _He's bluffing,_ Diana concluded. Flustered beyond anything she'd ever believed to be possible. He was the one that she was hunting, but ironically it would appear that he was falling willingly into her cross hairs.

This was about to get very interesting.

:::

Diana had decided to rejuvenate herself in more researching before they met up, relishing in the fact that she'd made him sweat a little by arriving late, or at least she thought she had. True to his word she had opened her hotel room door to find him poised and leaning against the doorway on the other side.

Clark took her in, she was perfectly coordinated in her attire and so chic. He had told Perry that he would need to go out, to "dig" a little deeper into the Rhett Jenkins case, But really he had just wanted to see her again. Clark had decided to take a different approach with Diana, to take a leaf out of _Superman's_ book. Truth was this woman was bringing out a side to him that he hadn't even known existed.

Her blue eyes watched him expectantly, and Clark almost lost his nerve.

"I thought you'd bailed on me for a second, there." Clark laughed, nervously. He resisted the urge to shuffle from foot to foot.

"And risk being kidnapped by you, I wouldn't dare." Diana retorted lightly, mulling over his words in her mind. _Bailed._ The word wasn't foreign to her, she had heard the kids of this age throw it at each other a couple of times, but _s_ he was still yet to understand the context behind it.

Clark visibly relaxed. "Ready?"

"I guess I am." Diana confirmed and actually felt confident in her choice for once. For the rest of the day Clark showed Diana the sites of the city he had come to call home, much to her chagrin she found she couldn't keep her eyes off of him. She'd watched the lines of his face as he described the sites. The set in his jaw when he talked about how the waterfront, with a charming little malt shop, was threatened by crime flowing in from Suicide Slum. His smile as he talked about the new nightlife and a nightclub he was going to be writing about in New Troy.

He even introduced her to a source of his named Bibbo that ran The Ace of Clubs.

That fellow had his own sort of rough charm. She actually found herself sort of enjoying his company, Clark seemed to have an inexplicable fascination on humanity. It was a golden complex he had, like he was desperate for normalcy, and living under his false guise was as close as he got to it. Her favorite part of the day was when he was showing her Centennial Park. He talked about how its open fields and swaths of grass reminded him of home.

That set him to talking about Kansas.

The way that he spoke of the fields of wheat stretching to the horizon was sweet and vivid. Diana could close her eyes and picture the golden fields being caressed by the wind. It was almost like she was spellbound, helpless under his control. She couldn't let it happen, but at the same time a part of her threatened to give into it.

Clark remembered Diana had said she would like to see Superman before she left yesterday and he briefly thought that if he could slip away for a moment that Big Blue could maybe fly past Spiegel tower and give a wave.

That would probably make her trip.

But he found he didn't want to be away from her. And he enjoyed that she paid so much attention to him instead of fawning over what Superman did.

Clark thought about this woman and how she made him feel.

He liked the few stray hairs that fell out of her hair bun to frame her face."She is beautiful," he had concluded sometime during the day. "As much as she tried to hide it and for whatever reason, she is beautiful." Many of his barriers that he kept up in playing the part of Clark Kent had fallen away.

He had stopped slouching and hadn't forced himself to stutter all day. If not for the glasses and once reminding himself to stumble over his own feet as they walked around the Metropolis Museum of Modern Art, that façade could have been thrown away for the day.

Clark took her to a cute little diner named Bernie's Rooftop deck. The place was a quiet little establishment; and had the feel of a 50's style diner, but a genuine one rather than those imitations specifically tailored to present their cultivated environments as a façade. The colors seemed to jump from the walls at her. It was tweed looking if you were into that sort of thing. They didn't have to wait long before they were given a table, where they ordered quickly before Diana excused herself to the ladies room.

Which brought her smack bam in the middle of her current predicament. She had needed to get away from him for a few minutes, she had been keeping Luthor informed on their movements for the better part of the day, via text message of course. But the more time she spent with him, the more the sick feeling in her stomach flourished.

Clark was getting under her skin, and she couldn't put her finger on how or _why?_ . . . it _overwhelmed_ her and confused her all at the same time. It made her head hurt, and her world threatened spin to spin out from beneath her.

Diana squared her shoulders, as she sauntered over to him, her skirt swirling around her thighs, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. Clark took a second to admire her, subtly glancing at the inch of skin peeking out from between her skirt and stockings. She slid back into the booth opposite him with a small sigh, that threatened to take his breath away. He wondered if he had been talking too much during their tour. He'd felt it was only fair since yesterday she had to answer so many questions.

"So . . ." Clark began, playfully. "Are you glad you _considered_ it?"

Diana raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at him. "I don't think I had much of a choice in the matter."

Clark pursed his lips in faux shock, amusement lighting his eyes. "There's always a choice, Diana. _Admit_ it, you enjoyed today."

She wouldn't admit to it, wouldn't rise to the bait he'd decided to hang for her. She stuck to a simple answer, "It was eventful."

Clark cocked an eyebrow, knowingly. "You wound me _Agent_ , and there I thought I witnessed a smile on your face at one point during the day."

 _Gods,_ he was infuriating. But it made her all the more curious about him.

"A simple delusion of grandeur," She fought the smile on her lips, but it came anyway, tugging until her whole face lit up. Clark grinned again.

 _Hook, line and sinker._

"Tell yourself whatever you need to," he breathed, his eyes bright and vibrant. "I know what I saw."

Diana couldn't stop the laugh then if she tried, the man was something else entirely. Was this the _Superman_ Luthor was so afraid of?

Clark on the other hand was completely taken with the sight, when Diana smiled at him he felt a feeling in his stomach that was a lot like when he was flying.

"You should do that more often," He suddenly blurted unable to stop himself.

"What?"

"Smile, it looks good on you." Clark marveled.

Diana's heart jumped and she was sure the smile that quirked at the corners of his lips meant that he'd heard it.

"Are you flirting with me, Clark Kent?" She asked through the blood roaring in her ears. He didn't miss a beat, a wide beam spreading on his lips again.

"That really depends on how you look at the situation." Clark challenged, inching closer over the pert table. He was surprised by his own brazenness.

Diana swallowed, her right hand curling in her lap, feeling the pinch of the ruby ring on her finger. She squared her shoulders, mirroring his actions. A strange look crossed over Clark's face then, and his eyes threatened to swallow her whole.

"I want to know . . ." Clark trailed off, daring to brush his hand against hers atop the table. "I want to know more about you."

Diana's breath hitched and she nearly had to pinch herself to recall why she was even here. There was nothing to tell, she didn't know herself. It was a tragedy, really. He smelled so good, like ambrosia and bails of Kansas hay, like the mannish shampoo he no doubt used in his hair. _Gods._ Diana bit down on her lip and tried to force herself to stop. She needed to _focus_.

"I already told you, yesterday. I'm not very interesting." Diana insisted, glancing up through batted lashes, searching his face. _Rao, w_ _hat was she doing to him?_ Clark thought to himself.

"I don't _believe_ you." He heard himself say, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"I don't care." Diana whispered back, just as thickly.

"If you say - " Clark was cut off by a light pound on his back, and he resisted cursing at the intruder. Lois Lane was sauntering over to them with a sickly sweet smile on her face.

"Smallville, is that you?" Lois called.

Clark blanched retracting his hand from Diana. He slouched again, his head lowering a little and not meeting Lois's eyes directly. Diana followed where Clark was looking, and carefully folded her hand back into her lap.

"Uh, Lois . . ." Clark sputtered, astounded. "What are you doing here?"

"The usual Smallville, looking for a scoop. Having a quick one." There was a pause. A misplaced anchor waiting for it's ship to accept. Lois propped a hand on her hip and cleared her throat. Clark shook himself, and attempted to collect his bearings, but it was nigh impossible. This was incredibly inconvenient and Clark wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"Right, of course." Clark finally managed, "Sorry . . . this is . . ."

"Agent Prince I presume." Lois interrupted, cutting Clark off facetiously.

"Yes." Diana answered with forced politeness. But right then, a hot flush was spreading across her cheeks and it wasn't the embarrassed kind. It was the kind that saw this woman for what she was.

"Lois Lane." Lois continued, keeping her eyes on Clark. Lois extended a hand and Diana took it shaking it firmly. "That's some grip," Lois commented dryly, there was a subtle hint of provocativeness under Lois' voice. But Diana was not deterred.

"Clark and I work together." Lois stated, wedging herself into the booth next to Clark. "Closely . . . We share a by line sometimes."

Diana looked between the pair, her expression unreadable. This was interesting. This Lois Lane woman seemed to be _'protecting her interest's'_ for lack of a better world. Clearly, they had been romantically involved in the past, she knew this because while under the care of MetaHuman Affairs Luthor had drawn no short sticks in educating her about the Lois Lane - Superman dynamic. One of Superman's most scandalous sordid affairs. Miss Lane was known to be the bulldog of the paper companies, the star reporter - all, thanks to her habitual knack for swooping an exclusive with the Man Of Tomorrow.

Clark let out an impatient breath, his back going up just that little bit straighter.

He was getting irritated.

Diana shrugged one shoulder and smiled, a small dimple on her cheek. "Interesting," Diana said in a voice that she herself didn't recognize. She had barely been in the presence of this Lois Lane for more than two minutes and she already wanted to pop her head from her shoulders. Miss Lane was trying to make her look the fool and Diana would have none of it.

"My boss, Perry White has told me so much about you, you're kind of hot gossip in the office at the moment." Lois responded, curtly. "Correct me if I'm wrong but you're the _replacement_ for Sarge Steel, am I right?"

Diana forced herself to calm down. She didn't have time to deal with petty little girls, she had a mission and that was priority. "Yes," she answered, her voice colder than she'd ever heard it. Diana looked to Clark and found him staring back at her. He was kind of grimacing but there was something else there, too. She couldn't classify it as awkwardness, but there was definitely fear and confusion. Like he thought this Lois Lane character would frighten her away.

Lois regarded the pair for a moment, before slinking her way out of the booth. Diana kept her eyes on Lois the entire time. Something inexplicable churning in her gut.

"Any way, it was nice to finally meet you . . . " Lois trailed off for a moment, "Agent Prince."

"You too, _Louise_." Diana responded, challenging Lois with twinkling eyes. She stared at her sharply, icy blue eyes nearly cutting Lois down.

Lois swallowed, for a moment she actually felt threatened. "Lois." she piped up, instantaneously.

"What?" Diana asked, innocently.

"It's Lois, you said Louise."

Diana laughed under her breath, "My apologies . . . _Lois_." Diana smirked, giving Lois a small wave goodbye, and successfully fanning down the heat in her cheeks. Lois cast a final hard glare in her direction before turning to leave.

Things were quiet between she and Clark for a second, as both tried to gather them self. "I apologize about Lois, she's can be quite extrovert at times. She means well, really." His voice was deep and gentle, packed with an undercurrent of exasperation.

"What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are tiny matters compared to what lives within us." Diana stated, wisely. She reached for her water and took a healthy sip, then swept her tongue out over her lips. "I take it you two use to be an item?"

Clark rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "It was complicated, but it's been over for a long time now."

"I see," Diana said, eyeing Lois in the distance over Clark's shoulder. "And you still care for her?"

Clark let out a imperceptible breath, weighing his options. Finally, he settled for something honest. "I do care for Lois, but not in the romantic sense." He explained, "Sometimes fate has other plans for us,"

Diana swallowed watching as Clark's eyes grew in earnest for the second time that evening, and she had to look away for fear that her cheeks would heat for a totally different reason. She heard him draw out a quick breath, heard him start to speak when he cut himself off abruptly.

"We should probably - " Clark began, but stopped short. Diana did glance up at him then, and watched as an array of different emotions skittered across his face so fast that it threatened to give her whiplash. He looked so serious that Diana almost didn't recognize him. She knew what he'd heard because she'd heard it to. Clark suddenly looked toward her his usually calm eyes brightening with wild fear. And from his lips escaped a word so loud that the whole diner could hear it.

"Get down!" Clark roared as he yanked her toward the floor, and glass exploded around them.

 _Crash._

 _Collision._

 _Impact._

* * *

 **Authors Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. So chapter three is here! There is no doubt that there is an attraction between these two now, emotions are running high and ambitions are running low. Clark is already heading down the long winding path of being completely smitten with Diana, and Diana is torn between what Luthor has convinced her to think and her attraction to Clark. Lois is an annoying nuissance who is only good for falling off buildings and not having any balls to fight for herself. What could be next for Clark and Diana, I'll give you a clue, there's only one bastard that can be behind this cliffhanger and it starts with L and ends with a R.

Thoughts? ...

 **Special Thanks:** I'd like to say thank you to the support I have gotten for this story and the reviews. You guys are awesome! Expect a new chapter in about a week or two, Much love!


	4. Conditions Of Existence

IV

Conditions Of Existence

:::

 _April 19th, 2016: Bernie's Rooftop Deck_

 _(Present day)_

 _"Get down!" Clark roared as he yanked her toward the floor, and glass exploded around them._

 _Crash._

 _Collision._

 _Impact._

They hit the floor like two dead weights and for a moment Diana lay there completely immobile. _Gods above_ , How hard did one have to hit their head before the brain got fractured beyond repair? she didn't know, but something told her that it couldn't be much. The right side of her face was on fire, no doubt from the impact of colliding with such a blunt force and when Diana opened her eyes she found herself looking at the cracked lense of her glasses, coiled up and twisted awkwardly on the diner floor. Something, no, _someone_ was sprawled out on top of her; the weight almost crushing but at the same time diligent.

She groaned in discomfort.

Diana's brain had already worked out who it was, even if her awareness was fleeting. Her hand palmed weakly across the floor reaching for the broken specs and adjusting them back onto her face.

The force of the disturbance had winded her, leaving her shocked and plastered against the carpel.

She felt herself being lifted into strong arms, and welcomed inevitably into a vortex of blue. _Clark Kent_ gazed back at her, his eyes smoldering with concern. His mouth was moving but she couldn't decipher the words.

"Diana." Clark admonished fiercely, pushing the lose strands of ebony from her dainty face. "Hey, Diana."

Diana frowned, irritated that she couldn't will her instincts to awaken, and in a vain attempt to better understand what Clark was trying to tell her. She parted her lips, but not a sound came out. Honestly, Diana thought she would've swooned if it hadn't been for Clark's hold on her.

"Diana . . ." Clark encouraged, gently. "You're in shock. Look at me, _focus_."

Focus, that sounded like a good idea. She looked up from beneath bewildered lashes, no doubt having have adopted the role of the perfect victim. Clark brought up a hand to her face and tilted her chin, as if to inspect her for injuries.

She froze against Clark's touch, wondering how he could dare accuse her of displaying such a sign of female weakness, she may be a woman, but she sure as hell wasn't a damsel. Men of this age hadn't changed one bit, they were still as shallow and as bigoted as ever. She covered his hand with the intention of prying his fingers away from her flushed face, but his touch only served to drag her in. Her hand trembled against his, and his words echoed in her mind. _You're in shock._

Could it be?

Diana had to admit, the disturbance had caught her of guard a bit but that didn't mean she was a coward, if anything it was quite the contrary. She forced herself to calm to at least a vast amount, her brain racing a mile a minute. Weighing out her options, this couldn't be a coincidence, it was to convenient. Almost as though it had been planned.

 _Luthor,_ this had to be Luthor's doing. Of course, this was just like him, and she wouldn't put it past the bastard to do something completely barbaric as to put her in such a tenacious predicament.

There was a commotion festering outside, something that went beyond just the shouting civilians. Something beyond anything simply just being inhumane. Diana only needed to hear that perverted drawl once to put the pieces together, it hadn't been an explosion that had disrupted their _dinner_. It had been a creature, a humanoid robot that had been let off it's leash by an owner that seemed to be set on making her prove her allegiance to him, and it was gunning straight for Clark.

 _Metallo,_ also known as John Corben was a Class Three MetaHuman Diana had met shortly after her rebirth to this world. He was a radioactive cyborg intelligence who depended on Green Kryptonite as his energy source, his file had informed Diana that he had been one of the many abominations created for the sole purpose of eliminating Superman and had a terrible temper to match that foul breath of his. Metallo was a creature of chaos and most certainly the diabolical type.

Diana bit back a curse, and wondered if Clark could see the inferno building behind her eyes. She tried her best to look stunned and frightened, but in truth she was livid.

Metallo wouldn't recognize her in this persona, he'd been unfortunate enough to meet the Diana behind the suit. The uncuffed and feral girl, the same Diana that had broken him in two in a test of strength, speed and agility - orchestrated by Luthor of course.

Diana could barely breath.

It was a blind rage, a rose untamed. And suddenly, all Diana knew was how to be helpless in a situation that was crucial for her benefit.

"Where is Superman?" Metallo's voice bellowed throughout the streets, followed by the sound of crunching metal. "Show yourself, Kryptonian!"

Clark tensed at the voice (and the reminder) _d_ _amn it,_ he cursed to himself. Metallo was here, he could hear him from where he sat cradling Diana, wrecking havoc on the city. If Clark didn't know any better it seemed as though he was heading straight for the heart of Metropolis just West of Akhiezer Memorial Bridge. Clark thought he had dealt with him. Hell he'd personally seen to it that Metallo had been delivered straight to MetaHuman Affairs some years ago. The bastard must've found someway to escape, and he was out for blood.

Clark's eyes were enigmatic when he looked back to her and Diana almost grimaced, trying to imagine herself doing what he did so effortlessly. Diana knew what he was going to do, he was about to do his big disappearing act. He was about to become _Him . . ._ Superman.

Clark's gaze darted around the hectic mass of stampeding people, searching for a way out where he wouldn't draw attention to himself. He spotted Lois, she was wide eyed and baffled amongst the crowd.

"Lois!" Clark yelled, over the wails of screaming people. Lois spun wildly at her name, dark eyes drinking Clark in. He hauled Diana up into his stealthy arms and carried her over to Lois, shoving through the crowd to reach her. "I need you to get Di- Agent Prince out of here."

Lois's face soured, her face the perfect picture of what Diana was feeling inside. She'd _kill_ Luthor for this, and then she'd come for him. "That's great Smallville," Lois chastised, haughtily. "Stick me in the middle with a goddamn apple in my mouth."

"Lois," Clark admonished, firmly. "You need to get yourself and Agent Prince medical attention, I'm going to stay here and see if there's anyone else that needs help."

"Jeez, Smallville who do you think you are, Superman?" Lois hissed, sarcastically.

"Lois!" Clark snapped, impatiently.

"Oh, alright." Lois huffed, Diana recognized the jealousy in her voice like it was a learned language, this Lois woman really thought she was something special. Clark set Diana down, then settled opposite of her, his eyes suddenly a light blue. Diana grappled to stay on her feet, she was embarrassed and more than a little peeved. Clark had practically peeled her off the floor, and was treating her like this Lois Lane woman she was standing next to. Fragile, and made of fine china. The damsel in distress role was Lois' to play, and like watching a train wreck Diana was in no position to do anything about it or else she would risk everything.

Three years of prep and plans down the drain, up in flames. Which ever one was appropriate, really.

Clark watched her, hands twitching at his sides, like he was dying to use them to calm her down, to hold hers. "Are you hurt?" Clark asked her, tenderly.

 _Only my pride_ , Diana thought to herself. She wondered why he would ask her such a thing, especially when he'd know regardless of whether he had her answer or not. Perhaps, it was a tactic he used to keep up appearances, to adopt the role of the innocent bystander.

Diana let out a hesitant breath.

"No, on the contrary I'm quite peeved." Diana answered honestly, finally finding her voice.

Clark raised his eyebrows and turned up his lips at the same time, looking infuriatingly attractive. He seemed impressed.

Diana bit down on her lip, and her throat nearly closed in on itself. Clark waited for her to go on, but she was already retracting, giving a small shake of her head, smiling softly. "I take it this isn't an isolated incident around here."

"Not by a long shot," Clark said lightly, His voice could be heard above the screams.

Diana regarded him, intensely. "I guess I shouldn't really be surprised, city of Superman and all,"

Clark offered up a small smile, and was about to open his mouth to answer, but Lois cleared her throat, clearly not liking what she saw happening between the two. "Look, don't mean to cut in but were in the middle of a war zone if you haven't noticed. I suggest we get the hell out of here before we all pop our clogs."

Diana almost rolled her eyes, this reporter woman was really starting to give her a headache. She didn't get a chance to dignify Lois with a response because Clark was already pushing her and Lois into the mass of scrambling bodies with a firm and final - " _Go!"_.

The crowd carried them outside, and despite it being midsummer, there was a breeze too quick for Diana and Lois to follow, only Diana knew exactly what it was, what it _meant._

 _He,_ was here.

Lois practically swooned and Diana blanched at the stars in her eyes. And here she thought that Lois Lane was over The Man Of Tomorrow, Perhaps, not. She watched as The Man Of Steel set a punch to the tin man, he sailed across the streets, hitting a lamppost before coming to a temporary halt.

Diana could only gape, her fingers twitching at her sides, her chest tight in the chaos that was upper state Metropolis in an uproar. She was torn, under threat of being unraveled by the mere sight of the Big Blue Boy scout brawling with Metallo. Clark Kent was tearing her to pieces, and for the first time in the dank nothingness that had been her life thus far, she was absolutely powerless.

She grabbed onto the brunette's arm at her side, feeling her stiffen beneath her touch. "Are we to just sit here and watch as a brawl happens before our eyes?"

Lois blinked, "He's Superman." she said, bitterly. "There's nothing we can do, take it from someone who knows."

Diana sniffed, almost turning up her nose.

 _Abhorrent._

"Surely, honor should be easy to access in a situation like this?" Diana asked, stonily. Lois flushed a bright red, she glared at Diana, probably replaying her words in her head to calculate the weight of her accusation. Lois scrambled to find the words, but Diana was no longer paying attention to her. She and the rest of the crowd were looking at the mess that had become of a brawl that was completely uncalled for. A man who had just made himself known to the crowd - a man who'd protected his _fancy_ and stumbled into something harsher instead.

Diana peered on, neck reddening at the mere sight of the situation.

Metallo would kill him.

From what she had read, Kryptonite was a Kryptonians greatest weakness and Clark did not stand a chance. If Superman was going to be vanquished it would be by her hands, after all that was her decree and she'd be damned if she let Luthor walk when he held the key to her past, to _everything_.

Diana swallowed, weighing her options.

"Gods help me." she hissed, a splash of decency urging her to take action. She began to move into the crush of people, neglecting her stilettos as she went.

"Agent Prince, dammit!" She heard Lois call, "Agent Prince!"

But that was not why she was here. This was something that she needed to do, maybe she'd just unraveled something that had only just begun.

:::

The woman who had gave Clark Kent a _chance_ was planted safely on the ground, and he'd needed some sort of story to take the mantle. For some reason, seeing Diana so stunned had frightened him. She had just looked so . . . lost, like there was the ghost of _something_ playing behind her eyes, something from before. It had been the same look he'd seen in Lois's eyes the first time he had saved her life.

But Lois Lane and Diana Prince were two different women.

Where Lois's eyes had showed only fear and gratitude, Diana's had burned with a fire that had managed to quicken Clark's pulse, and it had been that strength that he had witnessed within her that had inspired Clark to do what he knew she would've done, regardless of his yearning to stay by her side.

Diana had everything that Lois was only on the cusp of – power, regal beauty, effortless charm. _He was fucking ruined for every other girl._

Nearing the Akhiezer Memorial Bridge, Clark's vision picked out the details of Metallo's wrath. A four door sedan had viciously hit a slower moving delivery truck. Various parcels littered the roadway and now the sedan was hanging precariously over the edge of the bridge.

Concrete had been uprooted from it's core, left like roots picked from the Earth. Superman dove out of the sky, underneath the bridge and stopped a moment there hovering.

The car was pitching slightly. If the people inside had any injuries, it would be best to not move them if it was at all possible. For now the car seemed stable. He floated up a few feet and focused his eyes bringing forth his X-ray vision.

He spotted Metallo, hulking and terrifying amongst the mass of screaming civilians. They fought to get away from him, and it only added to the cyborg's excitement. Clark wasn't stupid, he knew what Metallo was capable of and the bastard carried his most greatest weakness.

But he was not the type of man to _abandon all hope_ _, Martha_ and _Jonathan Kent_ had taught him better than that. They had taught him to fight, to believe in something better for the world and for himself.

It was the kind of belief and love that had propelled his birth parents to evacuate him from Krypton to begin with.

Clark's thoughts flew back to one Diana Prince, he wondered if she was watching this. Without question this would be being broadcasted live on Channel 52, and would be plastered on the cover of The Daily Planet tomorrow morning, alongside many other newspapers.

Superman pivoted in the air like an Olympic diver, thrusting his head downward and extending his arms.

He completed his diving motion and propelled himself downward, slashing through the air at breakneck speed before ploughing into Metallo. The impact called up a devastating shock wave that shook the whole of Metropolis, the glass of shop windows and wall street buildings alike shattering to dust.

Superman followed up his actions with a right hook. He barreled up to Metallo in a blur of red and blue, his fist cracking across his jaw.

"Didn't you get the memo the last time I handed your ass to you?" Clark hissed, fiercely. The effects of the Kryptonite was instantaneous but he would not dare let that deter him, Metallo needed to be put down, perhaps even for good.

"Superman!" that familiar voice beckoned, and he grew angry instantly.

Clark clenched his teeth, his assault on Metallo becoming more punishing. "Don't worry ugly," Clark seethed, teeth grinding together in a way his mother would've scolded him for. "I'm putting you back where you belong."

"You should be nicer to me, Superman." Metallo growled, crazed laughter bubbling out of his throat. "We both know you're not up for this."

Superman grunted, the nausea clawing it's way up his throat as he threw himself at Metallo. He struck out his hands, clasping them around Metallo's throat before carrying them both into the sky; he needed to get Metallo as far away from Metropolis as possible.

"Hey, boy scout." Metallo warned. "Think twice."

Clark raised his fist to strike him again but Metallo thwarted his attempt, he brought up a foot and kicked out, knocking Clark away. Superman keeled over from a kick to the ribs, _that was gonna hurt in the morning,_ Clark thought to himself. The Kryptonite was slowly tearing him apart and it wouldn't be long before he blacked out completely. He weighed his options, the way he saw it there was only one choice and all signs pointed to things ending badly for him.

Clark felt his chest constrict, one thought and one thought alone beckoning in his mind. _Would he ever see her again?_

Clark looked up just in time to see Metallo hurtling towards him . . . decision made.

With what little strength Clark had left, he roared slamming himself into Metallo with terrifying strength.

"Omfph," Metallo gasped, completely winded as Clark sent them both soaring through the air. They met with three buildings before slamming down to earth into the woodlands, about two hundred kilometers east of Metropolis, hacking down trees as they went. They landed heavily, flailing into two different direction.

Clark groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows, dark hair matted from sweat falling over one bleary eye. A gust of wind told him that Metallo was already up and kicking. The green hue of Metallo shone out to Clark like a beacon. He stumbled back onto his back as Metallo surfaced with a glinting emerald roll from his core.

"Sleep tight, Superman." a voice said, distantly.

The woods closed in on Clark now, the circle of remaining trees felt extremely small - far from where his life was. Clark ached for the sound of nearby citizens, of the soft laughter of Diana Prince but heard nothing except for Metallo's laughter.

 _The woods was a deep place,_ Clark thought as Metallo closed in.

The age old riddle held a new twist: If a man died in the woods, and no one was around to hear him scream... did he even make a sound?

:::

Diana crinkled her nose as she landed on the dark soils of the woods. Having long since abandoned her glasses, the sleek black doe she so usually sported in the presence of Clark Kent was gone, now replaced by the raven tresses of her hair hanging silkily around her shoulders. She glanced up at the sky. Dusk was fast approaching, and the scattered trees that were littered across the site was a tell tale sign of what had happened there tonight. Diana shut her eyes and tried to remember her training, she honed her senses. She could hear them, they weren't far, probably a couple meters away at best.

Her ears picked apart the hollow sounds of the earth breathing, crickets stridulating, until . . .

 _"Sleep tight, Superman."_

Diana's eyes snapped open, and she sprang into action, there in one second, gone the next.

She was met with the sight of Metallo and an unconscious Superman, he was teetering on the edge of death. Barely grasping onto the long line that was life. "You might want to put that thing down." Diana commanded, scuffling to a halt against the soils, shoving her heels into the earth to anchor her stop. An angry flush spread over the back of Diana's neck.

Metallo whipped around in hushed anger, recognizing the voice instantly. He let out an incredulous laugh, took in the proud form in front of him. " _You."_

Diana let out an even breath. "Me."

The Kryptonite fueled bot rose to his feet, a fluid kind of grace possessing his actions. "Twist," Metallo whistled, harshly. "The infamous Winter Soldier. It's been a minute since I've been graced with your presence."

Diana's eyes darkened. "Somehow, I don't see how that's a bad thing."

"Ouch." he said by way of explanation, a smarmy grin upon his lips. Diana scowled at him, remaining stationed to her spot, her hands poised at her sides.

"Enough," She forced her expression to be cold, her voice distant, her eyes vacant. She took an easy step forward, stepped on a twig with her heel. "I'm negotiating."

"You have nothing left to negotiate with," Metallo spat, stepping away from Clark's crumpled form. The rage etched on the soldier's dainty features was almost amusing, but Metallo was smart enough to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat. Knew from personal experience what kind of monster she could be.

"That's where you're wrong," she said, firmly. "See I hold the lease to your freedom, and unless you want me to finish what I started the first time. I recommend you get as far away from this city as possible."

Metallo parted his lips to protest, but she silenced him.

"Unless of course you would like to try and best me, once again. Although, that has never turned out very well for you." Diana stated, matter of factly. "There's an ample supply of your life source at the headquarter's of MetaHuman Affairs and of course we already know that I have premium access to that."

Metallo tensed. His luminous eyes grew wide, and the half-step he took toward her was impulsive when he implored, "You're bluffing,"

"It's your call." Diana challenged, knowing exactly what she was doing. It had come to be an automatic response to most questions. It happened so often, in fact, that she thought of it as impulsively as a twitch or a cough. Diana could only watch him, her fingers twitching at her sides, her chest tight in the darkness. She felt her blood boil even more if that were possible.

"He gets your blood going, doesn't he." Metallo stated, obnoxiously. Turning the tables, trying to psycho analyse her, to test her. "I wonder how long it will be until Luthor orders you to spread those endless legs for him."

Diana clenched her fists, her bones constricting into skin. She scoffed at the thought of Luthor having that power over her. Rosy lips curled up as she seethed out, "Go."

Apparently Metallo decided she was serious because he took a step away from Clark. "You know sweetness, that's what I like about you." he said, breaking the tense silence, realizing that her eyes look more deadly than they'd ever been. "You're the worst of us, because _he_ doesn't even know where you stand."

With that he was airborne, soaring into the sky before taking off in a boom that ricocheted across the ascending stars.

Diana sighed, still tasting the words on her tongue. The phrase was cocky, sure. But it was an illusion of grandeur - the only way to make it to the top. To make them fear you. You'd make people believe that you had the answer to every question.

And they'd never ever doubt you for a second.

A sharp intake of breath had Diana stiffening. The sound of leaves crunching compelled her to turn.

Clark was starting to rouse, she had to leave, _quickly_ , before he realized that she had been there. There was no doubt that he had imprinted her heartbeat into his mind and if he got even an incline that she had been present it risked the chance of blowing everything.

She took a half-step backward before leaping into the sky.

And then she was gone.

:::

 _"You're the worst of us, because he doesn't even know where you stand."_

Clark stirred, only half-conscious in the humid breeze. His phone sounded from somewhere in his suit region, Clark wondered if it was his JLA communicator or just his work cell, maybe it was both. He felt sodden, his body heavy. For a suspended moment Clark wondered what had happen, but like a curse from Rao himself it all came rushing back.

He had taken Diana to see the sights, Lois had interrupted them. Metallo had attacked, and he had left Diana to wither the storm of her trauma alone. Clark shut his eyes in guilt, the memories tainting his mind like a plague.

The cell continued to sound, compelling Clark to hoist himself into a sitting position. He grimaced and pulled the phone forth, frowning when Lois's name lit up on the screen. Clark swallowed, snapping open the device. Lois's badgering voice screamed down the line almost instantly and Clark winced pulling the phone away from his ear slightly.

"Smallville, Jesus Christ where have you been?" Lois chattered, animatedly.

Clark almost rolled his eyes, "Lois . . ." He began, but Lois reacted like a blood hound that was hungry for the meat. She continued, impatiently. "God, I was beginning to think you were dead, where are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm just getting checked out by the paramedics." Clark lied, beginning to feel his strength return. He took in his surroundings, Metallo was no where to be seen. It all seemed to easy. _Where did he go?,_ Clark mused to himself. He could've sworn blind that - someone else had - Clark sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair so hard that he thought he might yank it out.

Lois's persistent chiding broke into his train of thought. "Smallville, are you still there?"

"Hmm," Clark hummed, distractedly and his mind suddenly conjured up the image of one striking brunette. _Diana._ Clark worried for a moment, thought of Diana stranded with a one seriously zealous Lois Lane. He pondered over the potential fact that Diana was mad at him, he did kind of go _Picnic On Hanging Rock_ on her. Something inside of Clark twisted, spreading through him until his palm began to sweat against the phone. The thought didn't sit well with Clark. Some how the idea of Diana being angry with him seemed in that moment like it would be the worst thing in the world.

He suddenly found the need to hear her voice. "Lois," Clark breathed. "Let me speak to her."

Their conversation fell to silence, and for a moment Clark feared the worst, he pursed his lips. "Lois."

"Smallville, I . . ." Lois trailed off, before clearing her throat. "Don't know where she is."

Clark tensed, features clouding over with concern."What do you mean you don't know?"

Lois huffed, down the line. "I kind of lost her."

Clark froze, "What?"

Lois sighed exasperatedly. "She just took of after you left all dark and pissed . . ." she explained, vaguely. "I wouldn't worry myself though, Smallville. Agent Prince seems like _the single white female_ type."

"That's not the point, Lois."

"Smallville, relax. I'm sure she's perfectly fine." Lois said. "Why are you so worried about this?"

Clark thought fast, "Because Perry will have my ass if I close doors with DOMA. This is not just another scoop for an exposé, Lois. This is my job on the line."

"Oh please, you two seemed pretty chummy if you ask me." Lois pried, Clark could picture her nose twitching now. To staff at The Planet, Clark Kent's personal life to the office vultures was like uncovering comedy gold. They lapped it up like Gulfer's to the cheese, amazed that the reserved, country neek had a life outside of The Planet's four walls.

Clark shook his head, unwilling to argue his point.

He snapped the cell shut, there was no doubt in his mind he'd have to listen to Lois's incessant rant the following day but that paled in comparison to the problems he faced at the minute. Clark already knew where she had ran to, he had listened for her heartbeat the moment Lois had gotten cryptic with him.

From what Clark could tell Diana was back at her hotel room and the racing of her heart told him that she was tense.

He had the urge to go to her. Clark wasn't sure how she would react to such an abrupt visit, an _inappropriate_ visit. But he knew that he wouldn't give up without a fight, a phone call just didn't seem appropriate, it wasn't personal enough.

But Clark knew it was much more than that.

After all, there's a reason why we are often caught playing with fire, although we know how it burns.

:::

Diana had taken solitude back at her hotel room shortly after her little face-off with Metallo in the Appalachians, and had whipped out her cell automatically, she'd stuck it on the dresser and waited for that darn text that always followed after an encounter with Kent. Sure enough it had come a second later, _Well played, deary._ It had read, only to be met with the force of Diana's hand stuffing it lividly back into her pocket.

She had taken a careful breath, fought for control. Then let it go, despite her annoyance, Diana had still ached for the consistency of waking up to that text message that told her that she was one step closer to epiphany. So here she sat before her dresser, her hands in her lap, her eyes trained on the gorgeous ruby ring that she had worked around her finger once, twice, three times, before sliding it off and tucking it into her jewelry box.

Diana caught her reflection in the vanity in front of her and frowned.

Metallo's words came back to her harsh and laced with a taunt, usually Diana would have been able to put it in a box. Gone about her day without giving it a second thought. Thrown it back to the farthest recesses of her mind, but now it stuck with her.

The stench of it drenched her, and she could only think of one reason why.

 _This doesn't change a thing,_ Diana told herself, adamantly. She repeated the motto until she believed it and, for a moment all was going to be okay. Until the knocking started, killing the comfortable quietness with a desperation. The knocking came again so loud that it sounded like thunder and Diana almost lost her breath when the heavy tap knocked her from her reverie, dark curls bouncing as she turned away from the vanity at the front of the room to glance back at the door.

She stiffened, unappreciative of such an untimely disturbance. Her eyes narrowed, immediately on alert. She pressed her lips together wracking her brain for who it could be, if it was Luthor she would skin him alive.

Diana straightened, she tied her hair into a loose bun hanging at the nape of her neck as she reached for the secondary specs she usually kept in case of an emergency. She poised herself to get up, when a voice resonated.

 _His_ voice.

 _"Diana, are you in there?"_

Diana's eyes widened, her heart halting before running a sprint in her chest. _Clark._ How was that possible, surely it should have taken days for him to recover. Unless, he had hauled himself here diminished of his full strength.

She squared her shoulders then got up, and opened the door an inch to reveal a rumpled Clark Kent. His shirt partially untucked, wild black hair, clear blue eyes. With his kind grin, and loosened tie. Diana swallowed and pushed the door open to it's full extension, forcing herself to not look as helpless as she felt.

The door opened to reveal a leggy brunette clad in a bathrobe. Clark stared down at her, effortless grace sparking forth the irregular beating of his heart, a sweet sight of delicate femininity.

Diana was so beautiful, even when she was pissed like this.

Clark cleared his throat and tried not to stare. The thin fabric of the bathrobe she sported left little to the imagination and Clark felt his cheeks threaten to flush.

Diana held his gaze under the dewy glow of the hotel lobby. She let out a crisp, exasperated sigh, her arms folding across her chest. "You disappeared," Diana said, daring herself to raise her voice.

"Ditto." Clark responded and his eyes grew in earnest. "I wanted to apologize."

Diana let out a sharp breath, taking a moment to collect herself. "Good."

"Hold on, Diana. I said I wanted to." Clark challenged, with an ounce of bravery. "I won't apologize for saving you."

Diana almost huffed, but pushed herself to become the controlled ice queen that Luthor had trained her to be. "I don't need protecting. I am not the girl you save. You should know that about me."

His lips lifted for a moment. "Somehow I gathered that," he paused, "But that doesn't mean that I won't do it anyway."

For a moment, for one lingering second Diana was flabbergasted. She looked at him, her eyes almost softening as she calmed herself down, as she swallowed down red-hot anger. She blinked and blinked again, her mouth finally finding the words. "Careful; sounds like Superman's rubbing off on you."

Clark smiled, lightly. "Superman is the symbol of hope . . . and you, finally got to see him. "

"That I did."

As Diana said this, he felt a rush of excitement – of normality. He regarded her for a moment. "You know," Clark laughed. "Most women would say thank you and be done with it."

Diana quirked a brow, "I'm not most women . . ." She trailed off, lashes batting, cheeks glowing pink, just daring him to finish her sentence. She looked like a doll. And it was then that he realized how easily porcelain broke - how easily _everything_ broke in his hands.

"I figured." Clark admonished and Diana wondered how he could be so sure of himself. She regarded him, eyes narrowed. A strange look crossed over Clark's face then, "You're hurt." he murmured, gingerly touching the bruised patch on her cheek.

Diana tensed, reaching up to grasp at his hand. The bruise would no doubt be gone in the next hour. " _I'm_ fine."

"Yeah?" Clark leaned forward, grabbing hold of her chin. The man was incredible, she knew what he was trying to do. _Mind games,_ Luthor's voice prompted ricocheting throughout her thoughts. But the more that Clark pinned her with his gaze, the more the thoughts of one bald headed wanker faded away.

"Clark."

"Diana." He was not a second offbeat. Diana narrowed her eyes, and his fingers danced down the line of her jaw. "I suppose we've reached some kind of impasse."

Diana nodded, then shook her head, desperate to regain focus. "Don't." She tried. Her voice softened when his lips fell a breadth away from hers, she realized how close they were now. Diana closed her eyes as they shared a breath, unable to look at the seemingly unrepentant warmth on his face.

Clark's forehead met lightly with hers and she let out a small whimper as his breath fanned out against her lips. "What?"

Diana panted, shaking her head. "One should never mix business with pleasure."

Clark lingered for a moment to long, he offered her a half-hearted smile before pulling away. His gaze trapped hers intensely, and Diana shook her head and sighed softly as he took a step away from her, watching a dimple form in his cheek as he dropped his hand.

"Goodnight Diana Prince," Clark said, in a voice so low she might've imagined it.

Diana stared at his mouth, holding her breath before glancing back up at him. "Goodnight Clark."

She watched him back out of the doorway before he turned and walked away. He looked at her one more time before heading down the hall without a word. Diana closed her door, and sank back against it, tilting her head back. She recalled Metallo's words from earlier. Listening to Clark descend into the elevator.

For Diana Prince, it was all or nothing.

And it would only be a matter of time before she achieved the former.

* * *

 **Authors Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Woo hoo chapter 4! Sorry for the long wait guys, I guess it was life getting in the way and a little bit of writers block, but I managed to finally pull through. Just to clear a few things up a certain review stood out to me asking what the ruby talisman symbolized. I can confirm that it is not an engagement ring, LOL. But it is a talisman that belonged to Diana's mother. Obviously, having lacunar amnesia Diana cannot recall where she got the ring, she just knows that it is something that has always been with her. As this chapter stands, it's getting harder to deny the attraction between Clark and Diana. I hope you guys like the sensitivity I'm trying to bring out in their relationship and Diana's inner confusion of the world.

Thoughts? ...

 **Special Thanks:** Thank you to all the kind and thoughtful reviews. They were all really exciting, and I hope you continue to let me know what you think! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I edited it about ten times before I finally posted, so I hope you guys enjoy! Next up will be Chapter 5: _Virtue Fell._


	5. Virtue Fell

V

Virtue Fell

:::

 _September_ _1st, 2016: Central Metropolis_

(Metropolis, New York)

It was a week before she heard from Clark again. A warped stretch of time that seemed to bleed into her day and etch away at the carefully mounted plan that had been forced upon her. Yet, somewhere at the back of Diana's mind was a nagging suspicion that something was about to happen.

That something was about to rear it's ugly head, _Just my luck,_ Diana thought to herself. It wasn't so much that it was predictable, it was the fact that it was darn right true. Clark Kent had tried to kiss her a week ago tonight, _Superman_ , the prodigal son of tomorrow, the enemy. _Her mission_. She had seen it in his eyes, that wild almost primal look that reminded her of the beast that Luthor had been all so willing to teach her about. Diana had heard that one could die from curiosity; because allegedly it killed the cat, but she had never dreamt that her death would be at the hands of someone who had just happened to glance her way.

Clark's concern for her had been truly sickening, had burned itself into Diana's brain like an image that she could not shake, no matter how hard she tried. Metallo had just been a reminder of that, a liability.

The scrap between Metallo and Superman had done more than made the headlines, the story had created a media frenzy and the newspaper companies had enjoyed a triumphant field day at best.

Looking back on it later, Diana thought she should have known trouble was coming. But, in Metropolis, _anything_ could be trouble. The impossible was possible. Your boss doesn't show up for work? Probably got kidnapped by some deranged Meta-freak. Take out forgets to put onions on your hamburger? The regular onion-delivery guy disappeared - again, probably due to the vengeful beasts of the city; of the enemies that The Justice League Of America had made, bastards who took it out on the innocent rather than settle their score with the person who pissed them off in the first place. They were all cowards and the quarreling between them disgusted Diana.

It was hard to imagine how Diana's day - even by Metropolis standards - could get any worse . . .

Diana sighed, wedging the cellphone closer to her ear, the weather today was miserable. The rain was absent and so crisp it hurt the lungs. Luthor was not helping one bit, his voice was a consistent nag down the line and Diana had to fight to stop herself from clicking the device off altogether.

"What exactly is it that I'm waiting for?" Diana asked, trying not to sound as infuriated as she felt. As she walked, people noticed her. She didn't like that, but she was use to it. For as long as she could remember she'd always stood out physically - tall, raven haired and slender - and it wasn't a foreign concept to have people focus on her and whistle or just plain stare.

"As I told you before, Diana." Luthor breathed, "Wait under the colonnades, _Superman_ will be coming out for his lunch break in exactly five minutes."

Diana checked her watch. Quarter to Eleven in the a.m. - and she really didn't know if she could wait him out any longer, truth be told she didn't want to see him. It wasn't that she was _afraid_ of him or maybe that was only half true - but she didn't like the way her heart reacted to being in the mere physical presence of him. Didn't like the feeling she got in her stomach by the very mention of his name.

"And then what am I to do, materialize before him out of thin air?" Diana hissed, ducking under the colonnade that rested a good five meters away from the Daily Planet's headquarters.

If Luthor detected the edge in her voice he didn't acknowledge it. "Along those lines."

"What does that even mean?"

Luthor laughed down the line, the sound so chipper that it instantly set her blood a flush for all the wrong reasons. "You're a smart woman, Diana. You'll think of something."

She understood then. "And after this you will give me the photograph?"

Luthor snorted sternly, all traces of the chuckling bastard from before gone. "You will be attending Bruce Wayne's gala tomorrow night. As a _special agent_ of MetaHuman Affairs it is only logical that the counsel offer premium access to the most representational of companies." he disclosed, mindlessly, and flawlessly dodging the question. "I will see to it that Henrietta makes you a dress that even the Goddess Of Love herself will be envious of."

Diana frowned, mulling over the foreign name in her mind. She'd never heard of a Henrietta before - much less encountered anyone of that name for that matter. "Who's Henrietta?" Diana demanded low in her throat, sweet as grits and poisoned as molasses.

"Henrietta is a personal contact of mine, she tailors my suits."

"Of course." Diana murmured sharply, popping her head out briefly to see if Kent had made an appearance yet.

"Oh, and uh . . . Diana." Luthor continued, gracelessly. "You won't be needing your glasses."

The sentence almost knocked the wind right out of her. Diana swallowed a cold bubble of panic and tried to make her voice sound at least partly under control. "I don't understand." she finally said on a hissing breath, angry because she was scared and hating it.

"Let's just say I want you to be looking the best that you can be. It's no secret that your beauty is ethereal." Luthor went on listlessly, Diana didn't didn't particularly want a pep-talk. She wanted to curl up in her warm bed back at the Casanova Hotel, pull pillows over her head, and sleep until she couldn't breath anymore. Better yet she wanted to throttle Luthor until his measly bobble head popped from his shoulders, and then some.

Diana let out an even breath, grasping for that significant ounce of control. "But won't that cause speculation?" she queried after a hard-thought mental battle, her voice toneless, her eyes still trained on the graying pavement before her.

"It won't when your not a cause for concern." Luthor explained. "You see, deary. The secret to taming men of this generation is quite simple really; were all fooled by a pretty face. Even that of an abomination like Superman."

"So, by that I take it Clark Kent will be at this . . . soirée." Diana concluded, she was use to speaking formally with Luthor.

"Much like DOMA; The Daily Planet always has premium access to these social _gatherings_ for lack of a better word." Luthor rushed out, erratically. "So in answer to your question, yes, _Superman_ will be present at the Wayne Gala."

Diana went silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. The way she saw it, it was all cards on the table, no miscellaneous option of flight just fight. "Cheer up, Diana." Luthor drawled, and she could picture him smiling now. "Think of it as an experiment. One giant step towards what we really want, eh? a step towards eliminating the problem."

 _Click._

Diana opened up her mouth for one last ditch attempt to protest, but it was no use; she knew he was already gone. Not even a second later Diana's ears picked up on a familiar heartbeat heading just three o'clock of where she was stood. _S_ _traight_ toward her. Her head peaked out to spot _him_ , he seemed to be in the depths of chatting amicably to an excitable looking red haired fellow, who she guessed could be no older than twenty five.

He was freckly looking, and by the look on Clark's face she could tell that he was most definitely infuriating. The kid was virtually a fetus, stumbling and chortling his way through Wall Street.

Diana squared her shoulders and sucked in a breath before starting toward the pair with flippant ease. The cardboard Mille-Fueielle cup felt like a second skin under her grasp, and the afternoon downfall was only serving to make it more so if that was even possible. Luthor had been right as usual, _Diana Prince_ always knew what to do.

Contingency plan set firmly in motion - but contrary to popular belief what happened next was an accident. In fact it happened so quickly, that not even Diana herself could've foreseen it.

The unstoppable force met harmoniously with the immovable object.

Diana's whole being seized up as the muggy warmth of her coffee splashed up against her, ruining the fresh ivory of her blouse. The paper cup slipping forth from her hand, before slapping the pavement like damp newspaper against drying tarmac.

Diana frowned, watching with increasing irritation as the remaining remnants of her black, with two sugared decaf darkened her blouse and then she went still, squeezing her hands together in the most bizarre moment she'd ever experienced.

She heard laughter, then an all too familiar thick voice saying, "Oh God, I'm so sorry . . ."

Clark's first reaction had been to wrench the person against him, a natural instinct to protect. But it only served to awkwardly squash them together, very near sending them both crashing breathlessly toward the sidewalk.

"Here, let me help you." Clark continued, when a familiar pair of dainty hands came up to stop his. "I'm . . ." Clark froze, his mortified grimace fading as he glanced up in recognition, a smile that almost stopped her heart lighting up his face. This time, his great blue eyes studied her with warm intensity, his body gravitating towards her like she was the center of the fucking universe. "Diana, what are you doing here?"

Diana smiled tightly, "Your boss, Perry White. He wanted me to come back in for a one to one."

Clark blanched for a suspended second, and his gaze flit back to her ruined top. The fabric clung to her chest like a lover, leaving little to the imagination and Clark suddenly felt hot, the heat threatening to make it to his cheeks as well as other places. Clark cleared his throat, "Diana, I'm sorry, I . . ."

Diana put up a hand, successfully silencing a rambling Clark. "That's enough," she said, "It's fine."

There was a pause, a misplaced anchor waiting for its ship to accept. The auburn haired man child elbowed Clark, successfully shaking him away from his reverie. "Oh, uh . . . right." Clark began, flustered. Diana almost rolled her eyes. _Gods, Men were such feeble beasts._ Diana took a frustrated breath, and then another. This man really had the clumsy reporter farce down to a T. "Diana, this is Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy this is Diana Prince."

Jimmy's smile was pooched and flirtatious, and Diana didn't know what to do, other than stare right back. He grabbed eagerly for her hand, giving it a firm shake. "James to the ladies." he remarked, and Diana could see him trying to connect the dots. His eyes glinted with bits of amber and noir when he looked back to Clark. "Wait, as in _the_ Agent Prince that you were -"

"Diana is a diplomat." Clark cut off, having no idea what to call what she was to him, and putting a stop to whatever foolishness Jimmy was about to say. Jimmy packed it in immediately, clasping his hands together in a motion that told her that he was feeling awkward.

There was another pensive pause.

Clark cleared his throat, and waited for Diana's gaze to flick away briefly before nudging Jimmy. Jimmy jumped, leveling Clark with his stare, and furrowing his red brows in bemusement. "Jimmy, do you think you could ah . . . give me and Agent Prince a minute. There's some papers that we need to discuss before she runs them by Perry." Clark explained, then glanced at Diana and continued. "It's for confidential matters."

Diana's heart lurched, before running a sprint in her chest.

Jimmy looked at Clark, mystified. Clark pursed his lips and squinted, shooting Jimmy a hard look. He was clearly intent on the exchange unfurling before him, the kid choked out a laugh. "Fine," Jimmy said, with cheerful ire, naivety enabling him from catching on. "See you soon, freak. Wish I didn't have to, sometimes, but there you go."

Clark let out a breathy little laugh, half-amused at seeing Jimmy so unnerved when he walked away and fell back into the stream of bodies shuffling up and down the avenue. When he was out of sight, Clark straightened himself and turned back to face Diana.

She sucked in a breath, and nearly blanched at the intensity in Clark eyes. "I was just gonna go out and grab some lunch." Clark murmured. "Do you . . . uh . . . wanna come?" he offered, with a quirk of a smile. Diana parted her lips, her glasses were smoked with fog and behind them her eyes peered out suspiciously, pale-blue and bitter. "It's the least that I can do after . . ." Clark trailed off, gesturing toward the ruined remains of home brewed decaf and sopping cardboard.

Diana let out a sharp breath, like she realized she'd just made a mistake. "I already told you, it's fine Clark."

Clark sighed, "Diana."

"I should really get these notes to Perry." Diana persisted, tapping the Balenciaga clutch at her side.

Clark's blue eyes were earnest, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that you're avoiding me."

Diana felt her jaw lock into stubborn position. "Why would I be avoiding you . . ."

"I don't know you tell me . . ." said Clark, sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable last week. It was inappropriate and unprofessional of me and . . . I apologize."

"It's fine, Clark. We were both vulnerable, and I guess we needed to feel secure. It was only conventional." Diana said, she held his stare for a full five seconds, then looked down. She could almost feel him smiling.

"Is that your word of the day?"

"No." Diana retorted, "Some people actually have a vocabulary that surpasses _the basic_ _English_ language. Μια γλώσσα που δεν γνωρίζουμε είναι ένα φρούριο σφραγισμένο."

Clark looked impressed, "Is that Greek?"

Diana glanced up with a small shrug. "I _guess_ I'm full of surprises."

"That you are." Clark said almost to himself, he smirked, all wide blue eyes and a kind smile. "One drink, Diana. I won't try anything." he paused, his eyes glinting in sincerity. "Scout's honor."

Diana tugged her lip between her teeth, avoiding his eyes. _Promises, promises._ She thought to herself. Clark in some ways, still had a rose-tinted view of the world and Diana was only just starting to realize that. She was cool on the outside, shaking on the inside, because he was so _genuine_ and that scared her _._

 _"_ What about the papers?"

"You can always drop them into Perry after, or I can do it for you." Clark reasoned. Diana looked perplexed, and he almost laughed. He cleared his throat, the smile dropping from his face. "Don't worry, Diana. I don't bite." he said softly.

Diana nodded numbly, squaring her shoulders. "I suppose one cup of coffee won't hurt."

Clark let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his lips curled into a grin at the stubbornness on her features. Diana almost scowled, he had won this round, _for now._ She wasn't sure which of them moved first, but it really didn't matter. _Clark Kent_ was right where she needed him. Her fingers were trembling now, a fine vibration that made her clench them into fists to make them stop.

One drink couldn't hurt, could it?

:::

 _**Gotham, Wayne Manor**_

 _Same day . . ._

Bruce Wayne was a man of few words, but when he spoke people listened. They say that the most ruthless wars are those without victors. Power plays are the most intense forms of struggle - and Bruce Wayne was not one to go out without a fight, he believed in something better. Of course it had taken some persuasion to get the league one hundred percent behind the plan but in the end he had come out victorious. In all honesty Bruce's only concern was Arthur Curry, the self-entitled merman. The fish had a well-documented history of acting before thinking, at least when it came to the personal safety of those he cared about. There was no time for that, Gotham was burning - at least parts of it anyway.

A humane knock sounded throughout the room, and Bruce swore letting his pen drop. "It's open."

Alfred Pennyworth, his most trusted butler and accomplice stepped in and let the door slip closed. "Master Wayne, there is a visitor here for you."

"Send them in, Alfred." Bruce decreed. Alfred opened the study door and ushered in a man with flaxen hair and serious eyes. The man shuffled into the center of the room, before coming to a halt. "Thank you, Alfred. That'll be all." Bruce dismissed, before offering a noncommittal wave in the air. Alfred nodded and moved away from the door to pick up the coffeepot, before exiting.

The lanky man straightened out his maroon sweater vest before smiling politely. "Good afternoon, Mr Wayne."

Bruce shifted in his seat, unappreciative of his euphemism, and his expression darkened to a glare that was nearly lethal. "J'onn."

The stranger straightened, before fazing into his true form. The green extra terrestrial being that Bruce was accustomed to seeing on monitor duty at The Watchtower. "Ever the detective." J'onn said, with a quirk of a smile. Bruce took a frustrated breath, and the alien paused. "What is it you humans say . . ." J'onn mused. "Trouble in paradise."

Bruce ignored his question. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, J'onn?"

"There's a lead." J'onn announced. J'onn's face held every fear that Bruce felt in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to dismiss him, to shut him down with another terrible taunt, but J'onn had grasped Bruce's undivided attention. Bruce sighed, trying to shake his curiosity.

"Meaning?"

"A body was found this afternoon." J'onn said.

Bruce frowned glancing at J'onn and then J'onn took a deep breath and told Bruce everything. His discoveries, the murder that had transpired this afternoon, the morning before the scandal made headlines, how he could barely think straight because of humanity's anguish screaming through his mind. Bruce took it in until his eyes fell shut. The pain in The Martian's voice . . . the helplessness of his tone. He suddenly felt rage beyond fury, beyond arrogant disagreements back at The Watchtower. His face flamed and his nails bit into the skin of his palm.

J'onn watched as Bruce's mind raced, his eyes went complete black. This truly was beyond a mission . . . beyond a stupid plot to take a bastard like _Melvin Reipan_ down - this was _revenge_. Bruce lent back into his chair, and pulled out a draw at the side of his desk.

"As you know tomorrow night. I'll be holding a gala here." Bruce said this all to J'onn amidst a fog of unchecked rage, cheeks burning so hot that it surpassed the toils of any mundane fever or winter cold. He reached into his desk, shuffling through a few stray papers before retrieving the source of his forage. He dropped it on his desk before pushing it forward to give J'onn a closer look.

A picture of a woman with dark hair, compelling eyes and beauty beyond anything J'onn had ever had the courtesy of glimpsing stared up at him. "Luthor's secret weapon." Bruce rasped in a light, yet unbelievably menacing tone. "Will be right under our noses."

:::

 ** _Birch Coffee, Metropolis_**

 _Later that day . . ._

Diana peeled off her rain-soaked jacket with a whimper of relief, and shivered as the cool air hit her flushed skin. Clark had disappeared to order their respective meals, no doubt packing on a side dish to match. Secretly, Diana hoped that he'd purchase the fruit pot that she liked, a guilty pleasure of hers. Succulent strawberries and fruitful pineapple slices to soak her taste buds straight into exotic bliss.

Diana licked her lips at the thought, and skeptically surveyed the room. The walls wear a warm mustard with intricate detail, and photographs of the owners plastered in wooden frames across the trails of oak vines that wrapped the intimate little space in a cloak of homeliness - good clientele too. She glimpsed up as Clark sauntered over to their table, a cautious grin on his face.

"Your Chobani." Clark drawled, sliding over the plastic container and setting down the foam cup next to the yogurt. Diana raised an eyebrow when she saw that Clark had already mixed it, drizzling it with fresh fruits, just as she liked. "And one natural brewed _mocha_ decaf, ma'am." Diana fingered the lettering on the pot before pulling back the tarp and popping a segment of blood orange Chobani into her mouth before picking up her spoon.

Time seemed to become a commonplace entity as they talked - they ran over the various mishaps of work at The Daily Planet, and that lead to a discussion about Bruce Wayne's annual gala that was to come the following night. The parties attending were to be The Daily Star alongside other top market paper companies, The Department Of MetaHuman Affairs would also be attending but of course Diana already knew that. She had confirmed to Clark that she would be making an appearance. America's most eligible bachelors would also be there as well as many, many faceless others. Clark even told her that there was to be a queen attending as an Ambassador from a mythical Island named Themyscira.

 _Themyscira,_ Diana thought to herself. Tossing the word around in her brain, it seemed familiar. Diana shook her head and sighed softly focusing on the creamy heaven before her. "I really should've changed first." Diana breathed, scooping up bit of yogurt.

"Figures," Clark laughed, lightly. Sliding into the seat opposite her, his mouth went to form another apology but the look that Diana sent him told him to let it go. They sat in silence for a moment before Diana glanced back up at him.

"No fruit pot?" Diana pointed out, she took a sip from her mocha.

"No." Clark breathed. "I just noticed that you seemed to enjoy it when I interviewed you."

Diana sat staring at him with that tender pink mouth slightly open. She quickly composed herself, lest anyone think she was going soft. Her voice dropped when she spoke again. "Impressive, I see that your glasses aren't just a guise to feign brightness."

Clark grinned, leaning forward in his seat. "Did you just compliment me, _Prince_?"

Diana paused, her lips lifting into an incredulous smile. "Did you just call me Prince?"

Clark laughed, blue eyes gleaming. "Maybe."

"And what do you suppose I call you . . . _Kent."_ Diana challenged.

Clark shrugged a shoulder. "I'm partial to it." he said, "Besides, it's our thing."

"We don't have a thing." She said, Clark seemed to ponder on the idea, ready to voice it when she cut him off. "As for whether I just complimented you, you can take that how you want to. Besides, wouldn't want your ego getting any bigger."

His left eyebrow flew up and he laughed under his breath. "Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"That you did."

Clark grinned, and she hated it. He was too similar to her to be a proper opponent. He absorbed her insults and played off of them, fueled by her annoyance. But when he spoke, his tone was gentler than ever before. He lifted a hand, passed his fingertips just above hers and inhaled. His hand curled around hers, rough fingers sinking into her tawny skin and his eyes were enigmatic as he said, "It's nice."

Diana's breath rushed out of her lungs, her soft voice going as serious as it had ever been. "What?"

" _This."_ Clark stated, and plucked up his courage. _"_ Look, I don't know what's going on here - or what this whole _thing_ is but it feels good. Doesn't it?"

Diana swallowed and kept her gaze down on their entwined hands. Clark's confession weighing in the air, even stronger than the storm battling outside. She was about to say the honest truth: _yes,_ because she could no more deny the attraction between them than one could deny being deemed guilty to a verdict.

Diana swallowed, pinching her lips together. "Clark -"

"Is there anything else I can get you, Clark?" a velvety voice interrupted, Clark retracted his hand from Diana's glancing up despite himself.

"Uh . . ." Clark breathed, clearing his throat. "We're fine . . thank you, Katherine."

The woman kept smiling, sage eyes fixed on Clark. Diana didn't like the way she was looking at him. It looked - greedy. She studied the mousy blonde's perky smile, the golden ringlets that framed her face in disgust. This Katherine was exactly the kind of girl that would snatch your man right from under you - and play innocent while doing it.

"No refill?" The blonde pressed, letting her pen tap away at her notepad with a hard snap.

"No." Diana answered, bluntly. She raised the cup to her lips, gulping down the beverage in a vain attempt to keep that notorious temper in check. What good would it do her to fly of the coup before going into the finals. The hostess flinched at Diana's cold reception, clearly threatened. Then offered a half-hearted smile, nodded her head a fraction of an inch. "Let me know." she tweeted, before backing away awkwardly.

They sat in silence for a moment before Diana turned to him. "I should go."

Clark held Diana's gaze, "Diana."

"Stop looking at me like that." She finally snapped, her composure faltering. Usually, this would be her point of retreat or pure boredom. But Clark . . . he was something else. _Something_ held her there - something masochistic. She looked up at him with all of the nonchalance she could muster up. "You told me that you wouldn't try anything."

"And I haven't."

Diana let out a sharp breath. "Maybe not physically, but . . ."

"Emotionally." Clark finished for her.

"Yes." Diana continued, her cheeks flushing scarlet immediately. "This is not professional."

"Diana, I didn't intentionally set out to . . ." Clark trailed off, he ran his fingers through his hair so hard that Diana thought he might yank it out. He huffed, and tried again. "I'm a man, you're a woman. We're both adults. There's an _attraction_ between us, it's that simple."

The frustration etched onto Diana's dainty features was almost amusing, but he was smart enough to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat.

"It's not possible, Clark." Diana said, the words harsher than she intended.

"It's more than that though isn't it." Clark stated firmly, his soft voice going as serious as it had ever been, his shift in moods giving her whiplash.

Diana scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You're afraid." Clark disputed.

"You're wrong."

"There's a word for that Diana. It's called cowardice."

Diana frowned at him, insulted, fists balled up on the table before her. But rather than the coming of World War III, Diana got to her feet gracefully, straightened her blouse, stood looking down at him and smiled a twisted smile which only threw the failed pain in her eyes into greater emphasis.

" _Coward_." Diana murmured bitterly, gathering up her belongings as she turned from him.

She heard him curse softly under his breath, "Diana." Clark called out. "Wait . . ."

Diana shut her eyes, desperate to insult him, to make him go away. He couldn't see her like this, _no one_ could see her this way. But when her periwinkle eyes fluttered open to meet his increasingly worried gaze, all she could manage to choke out was, " _Now I understand_."

"Diana." Clark managed to reply, feeling panicked. "I didn't mean that . . ." he stepped closer to her, glancing behind him before two of his fingers found the nape of her neck. For a moment, as he felt how smooth her skin was, he was tempted to press those rose-plumped lips against his. Find out if she tasted as good as she smelt.

"I'm sorry," Clark murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. Diana parted her lips in protest but Clark cut her off. "I'm sorry . . . that wasn't fair."

" _This_ can't happen, Clark" Diana's eyes were cold and dead when she said this and if Clark felt even the slightest sting of rejection, he did not show it.

"It can't?" Clark echoed, like it pained him to let her slip away again. He reached out to tip her chin up, the pad of his thumb brushing her lips.

Diana let out a short breath and pushed away from him. "Stop it." she warned, tucking a stray curl out of her line of fire. "I'll be leaving now, _Mr Kent._ " Diana waited for him to stop her, but he was clearly smart enough to know not to push her. She backed away, already heading out of the door. Clark remained where he was as he grazed a hand against his glabrous chin, letting out an exasperated sigh.

 _Diana Prince? A ticking time bomb._

And he was going to set her off.

:::

On the other side of Metropolis, Diana stumbled into her hotel room with an ache in her head and a hangover that had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. _Clark Kent_ , bastard. Tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough, and Diana was prepared. Because it was easier to destroy. It was easier to drown in your own charade than open yourself up to the tenderness of others. A harsh breath fell from her lips, it was not a known fact that Diana was prone to awful, short-winded panic attacks. _"Breath Diana",_ she told herself. She swallowed, unclenching her fists when she noticed something resting on her bed. Diana blinked and kicked her shoes off gravitating toward the delivery.

 _Henrietta's Boutique -_ the box read. The package was large and a velvet bow of the color orchid rested on top of it. As she gathered up the box, a slip of paper slid out from inside of the _Henrietta Wang -_ a gold sheet marked with the initials _L.L._ She swallowed when she read the scrawled message below the brand.

 _"To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy."_

 _Tomorrow night, Wayne's Gala._

 _~L.L~_

Oh, yes.

She most certainly would be there.

* * *

 **(A Really Long) Author's Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 5, Yes . . . I've got some explaining to do. This was a particularly long break between updates, and I'm very very sorry for that. As you guys may not know, I have tons of other stuff going on - like a shop on Etsy, book blogging, and writing a book of my own. So I've been a bit wrapped up in making orders, going to Book Expo Canada, and toying with my original characters and plot lines. Again, I'm so sorry for the delay, and I hope you guys understand. I'm not trying to abandon Cliana. I'll write for as long as you guys want to read - you'll just have to allow me some breaks in between.

Yes, this was a shorter chapter than most - but I really wanted to focus on this one night before the drama begins next chapter! and as you can see it's already starting to rear it's head. And here's some other news: I officially (tentatively) know what's going to happen throughout the entire story now!

On a side note, I just want to thank each and every person who's reviewed this story thus far for their endless support and constructive feedback. You guys are so amazing, and you make me want to write SuperWonder FF until I'm old and gray. I know that there are some of you who never review or only do when I haven't updated - and I still appreciate your readership - but please consider dropping your opinions from chapter to chapter! I really value what you guys have to say, and it's honestly my favorite part of writing fanfiction: working on what you love, and adjusting what doesn't work. So please keep that in mind. :) Also I'd like to reveal that I have a new Superman/Wonder Woman story in the works, it will be called _An Unkindness Of Ravens_ _._ If you're interested in the plot, just pop me an I.M. Anyway, I talk way too much. Until next time, lovelies! xoxo.

P.S - Next up will be Chapter 6: _Within Temptation._


	6. Within Temptation: Part One

VI

Within Temptation

(Part One)

:::

 _September 2nd, 2016: Diana's Hotel Room_

 _Diana Prince,_

 _The Wayne's Trust Foundation of The Wayne Enterprise of Gotham City requests your presence during our April initiation. Should you choose to accept, leave a black stone upon entering the premises. Further instructions will follow._

Diana eyed the ivory card, pinching it between two fingers, studying the carefully drawn script. It was strange how things could go from nothing to _something_ in the space of just three weeks. The world really was just one pressing riddle, a mystery wrapped inside the hearts of the entities that walked amongst it. It lacked the detail, but the meaning was there. Under direct orders from Luthor, Diana had been preparing for the fundraiser for the better part of the day, and waking up that morning had felt like the end of the world. Diana didn't remember sleeping, but she supposed she must have a little.

 _Henrietta_ , Luthor's entrusted seamstress had stopped by late afternoon, and had anchored Diana in front of the mirror while she added the various little finishing touches to the dress, which seemed to carry out until late into the evening.

So, Diana's day - even for her standard- had been totally uneventful.

Diana set the card down on the chest of drawers that rested beside the mango wood floor length she was currently occupying, then reached for the gloss stick that laid next to it. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant chignon, loose ringlets falling around her face. She rubbed the pinkish gloss onto her lips as Henrietta stood behind her in the mirror, tugging at the organza skirtings of her dress, a fine line of pinched concentration to her lips.

Diana caught her reflection in front of her and frowned.

She had to admit, the dress was beautiful. It was art in the form of fabric, a crinoline of pink satin with lace lamé all over it, jewel encrusted detail stroking the dusky pink folds of the dress, grander than any she had ever seen on a human woman.

"Raise your arms for me." Henrietta commanded, snapping Diana out of her reverie. Diana obliged, lifting her arms until it was like she had her very own pair of wings. She watched as the seamstress hooked a needle through the dip of the dress, then pulled on the material until it pleated at the chest. She then wound the thread tightly around her hand, and with an ease that told Diana that she'd been doing it for a long time - snapped the thread in two before dropping it to the floor forgotten. Henrietta took a step back with pursed lips, regarding her handy work with narrowed eyes. "You can drop them."

Diana sighed, dropping her arms. Henrietta tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her nimble fingers reaching out to tweak one of the rosebuds. "There." she said, brightly. "A dress fit for a beautiful woman . . . you look like a princess."

Diana had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, as the excitable young woman came to stand beside her. Her hands fell to her hips, as she basked in her work of art. "It looks . . ." Henrietta trailed off, before releasing a satisfied breath apparently not able to put her thoughts into words.

Diana kept her face stern, but as the blonde gushed over how beautiful Diana looked in her creation, she let out the smallest of smiles.

Which Henrietta didn't see, of course.

Henrietta was right, she truly was a sight to behold and the thought scared Diana, for tonight; like a flower in bloom - Diana Prince would evolve into the hidden beauty behind the heavy drabs and spectacles. Diana cleared her throat, "Thank you, Henrietta." Diana said, lightly. "If not for you it wouldn't have been possible."

"You're most welcome, Miss Prince." Henrietta said. "Mr Luthor advised me that the color made you look more soft."

"Oh," Diana murmured, bitterly, raising a dark brow in hushed irritation. "He did?"

"Yes, Miss Prince." Henrietta replied.

Diana honestly didn't know what to say, and wasn't sure she could say anything. _Charming_ , she thought to herself. Diana briefly wondered if the bastard would go so far as to plant a hidden camera in her dress; the thought almost had Diana checking herself physically.

"I'm sorry that it took me so long." Henrietta stammered. "I just . . . I wanted it to be perfect."

Diana was nonplussed, she remained silent, still trying to figure out how she felt.

Taking Diana's silence as an obvious dismissal the seamstress scrambled for her belongings before making a quick beeline for the exit. She turned and spared Diana one last glance, "You really do look breathtaking, Miss Prince." Henrietta said, her cheeks flushing scarlet almost immediately and with that she disappeared, her tiny skirt swishing around her thighs as she left.

Diana breathed a small sigh of relief as the door closed. She hadn't had a moment to herself all day and was grateful for the peace. _In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity._ It was this that Diana thought about as she glanced back at herself.

 _Clark Kent._ He was to be attending the gala tonight as sole representative of The Daily Planet. Diana let out a shallow breath as she recalled his fingertips on her skin after weeks and weeks of feigned hatred. He had known all those things about her . . . inconsequential details that he'd collected throughout the weeks he'd gotten to know her, of rolling her eyes at his bad jokes and missing his second glances, his keen observations. Diana hated him for it, detested that tender way of his. The way he _looked_ at her, he'd gotten under her skin.

Diana swallowed, pushing the thought out of her mind. Her inhale was sharp and loud, her pink glossed lips pinching together as she gathered her bearings. "One night," Diana breathed. She repeated it again and again under her breath like a mantra, her eyes cold. Diana was just about to grab her purse when she heard a light knock on the door.

When Diana answered, she was hardly surprised to find her chauffeur standing before her. Diana blinked, and straightened herself. "Miss Prince," He said, formally. "We're bringing the car around."

"Thank you, Felix." Diana replied, graciously, then moved to retrieve her clutch off her bed. "Shall we."

"Certainly, Miss Prince." Felix countered.

Diana nodded, moving to take his offered arm. Together they walked out into the hall, where Diana could hear couples chattering in their rooms and children bickering. She smiled as Felix retrieved the black pebble from his pocket, already distracting Diana with chatter about that nights benefit.

And so it began.

:::

 ** _The Wayne Gala_**

 _Gotham City . . ._

Snow fell on the night of the benefit - cloaking the building in a blanket of pure white despite the darkness inside. The grand halls were draped in silver and gold, the lights were dimmed, the ceiling-to-floor windows revealing the expanse of snowy night outside.

They often say that there's a sort of calm before the storm, which had often proven to be right when Bruce had tackled situations like this before. There is an awful tendency that human beings have to fall back into old habits, remoralize failed patterns because they still feel almost as nice as they once did. We seek solace in comfort, and comfort in the darkest crevices of our lives.

Toxic always has tasted so sweet.

Tonight's turn out had been grand, but it was nothing that Bruce hadn't expected. Socialites were riled with excitement, pressing mock kisses to flushed faces, tied corsets over curves, slicked ties around necks. Even the chaperones were lost in the lure of glitz and glamour.

In a haze from swallowing down brandy as if it were the virgin cocktail it appeared to be, Bruce caught the flash of white through the crowd, blond curls that were all too familiar - J'onn's disguise from the green skinned alien he really was. He frowned, as he caught J'onn picking at a mushroom on the plate he was holding.

"J'onn, I need you to stay on mission." Bruce muttered, into his com-link.

The Martian replied a second later, "I'm not sure I understand, my friend." J'onn's eyes fell on Bruce from the opposite end of the room. He recognized that pissed-off glare on his friend's face much too well, he offered a small smile in assent. "Try to relax a little. Your thoughts are starting to give me a headache." J'onn retorted.

"Stay out of my head, J'onn." Bruce hissed, across the room he spotted Arthur and his queen Mera. Not to far away Hal Jordan could be seen looking down a waitress's blouse. Where as, Barry Allen remained stationed to the far end of the room, next to an array of breads and cheeses, a refreshment dock of hor d'oeuvres. He glanced around for assurance, eyeing the crowd of socialites before slipping a fleshy looking prawn from one of the extravagant fountains of seafood.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, and watched as Barry popped it into his mouth.

"We've got the place covered." Bruce rasped, tearing his gaze away from the sight. "Be ready."

"I am, my friend." J'onn replied, placidly. "But as for the others, they have no idea who their looking for."

"And I plan on keeping it that way, until further notice." Bruce said by way of explanation. "Batman, out." With that he straightened, shoving his communicator into the back pocket of his slacks.

:::

Clark clutched at his recording device, desperate to settle his nerves as the Wayne benefit kicked into full swing. Lois Lane chatted animatedly beside him, but he was only half listening - Clark hadn't know it was possible, but the little brunette was actually giving him a headache. Clark surveyed the room, billionaires were all around them, talking endlessly about absolutely nothing as they sipped champagne from silver flutes. The place swarmed with paparazzi and press like wasps to nectar and from the ceiling presented a grand curtain chandelier, encrusted with crystal detail. _Show Off,_ Clark thought as he fought a smile - only Bruce Wayne could pull of something this extravagant.

Clark checked his watch, then picked absently at a stray piece of thread on his suit. He wondered if Diana would be coming, Perry had told them that a representative of DOMA would most likely be making an appearance tonight - priority guests and everything - and that it was their job to get the latest scoop, the inside information on the happenings behind the merchandises four walls.

"Who are you looking for, Smallville." Lois asked, tugging at her blouse before subtly sticking out her chest.

Lois Lane was ticked. Smallville hadn't even looked at her, and she had unbuttoned another notch on her blouse, popping up her cleavage for an excellent view. The other men in the gala seemed to notice and were ogling. It put her in a foul mood, Lois would never admit it but a part of her had always believed there to be an unspoken tension between her and Smallville. But ever since little Miss Congeniality swanned into their office, he had been like a man with his tail between his legs.

Clark cleared his throat and shrugged, shoving a hand into his pocket. "Nobody,"

Lois scoffed, "Please Smallville, your face gave it away." she said, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.

"You're imagining things, Lois." Clark drawled, distractedly.

Lois huffed, giving a small shake of her head before falling into silence.

Clark looked out amongst the mass of faceless beings, he spotted the wild red hair immediately. Jimmy Olsen, youth extraordinaire stood with his tongue sticking out to the side of his mouth as he scrambled to write down his notes, looking out of place amongst the sea of Armani suits and dresses ripped straight from Madison Avenue. Clark stifled an eye-roll as the lanky kid straightened out his maroon sweater vest, then as if sensing eyes on him he glanced up.

Clark smiled halfheartedly as Jimmy offered up a toothy grin, it only took a few seconds for Jimmy to come barreling up to them. " _Lolly pop,_ Why the long face?" Jimmy asked Lois, mystified.

A harsh breath fell from Lois's lips. "Jimmy, I already told you to stop calling me that."

"But it's the new thing." Jimmy teased.

"No, it's a Jimmy thing." Lois remarked, exasperated. "Dammit, we need to focus."

"Yeah, well tell that to Kent over there. He looks like his on another planet." Jimmy said, looking pointedly at Clark. Clark suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Say, Kent. Where's _your_ agent?"

Clark's stomach shifted at the mention of Diana's name.

"Jimmy." Clark stammered.

"What?" Jimmy asked, obliviously. Lois perked up with interest beckoning him to continue. Jimmy was not to be stopped, "Come on, man. You're blushing, I'll take that as confirmation."

Clark swallowed, flustered and glanced at Lois who arched a brow at him. "Interesting," she murmured.

"Clark talks about her all the time, he dozed off in the office this week. Said her name in his sleep . . ." Jimmy trailed off when a pair of glares hit him like daggers. He quieted, glancing at Clark's disapproving frown and laughed nervously under his breath. "Never mind."

Clark had to stop himself from stepping on Jimmy's foot. He swallowed the impulse to yell, and a second one, to kick the table in frustration. _That would end well,_ he thought fleetingly. Jimmy moved to stand beside Clark as he silently seethed.

Clark wondered if he could get away with sneaking away.

"Maybe _Miss Prince_ won't show up." Lois said, dryly.

"I think," Jimmy breathed, staring across the room, his lips parted in surprise. "I think . . . she already did." Clark followed his gaze and nearly lost his footing as his eyes found a raven haired belle dressed in pink across the room.

He sucked in a breath, It wasn't Diana, Clark decided. This woman . . . couldn't possibly be Diana. Gone were the thick black glasses and the stout clothing, Diana looked stunning in her floor-length gown - it was sleeveless and had a low, draped neckline of crepe georgette. A heavy chiffon, the dress was only slightly fitted at the waist, but sashed around the hips with the same material. It was dusky, pale pinkish grey, the color that in the crisp winds of London was called ashes of roses, and the entire gown was embroidered in tiny pink rosebuds. Loose dark curls framed her face, her blue eyes sparkling behind the browns and creams of her makeup. Her cheeks were healthily flushed, her lips painted with rose pink too.

Jimmy let out a low whistle. "Whoa that's . . ."

"Prince." Clark finished. "That's Agent _Diana_ Prince." He swallowed once, then twice - his mouth seemed to be remarkably dry. He tried to ignore the odd panging in his chest, the attraction that just wouldn't fade.

Clark adjusted his collar, swaying on his feet.

And he wasn't even drunk.

Lois scoffed beside him, downing the rest of her champagne. "Close your mouth, Smallville." she scolded, "We've got work to do, I'm snagging the agent for an interview. Jimmy go and see what you can scoop on Rhett Jenkins and Smallville . . . once you've picked your jaw up, follow me."

Clark frowned, trying to make sense of the words. He licked his lips, then licked them again before nodding in response.

Standing regally on the opposite end of the room Diana pursed her lips, straightening herself. She'd gathered the attention of the entire room, people looked on at her in hushed awe, voices dropping to low murmurs as they nudged their partners.

Diana hoped that her nerves didn't betray her icy demeanor.

The men were all so _handsome_ in their tuxedos - perfectly trimmed haircuts, their tuxes prim and proper, ties around their necks. It was then that she noticed a few familiar faces from the Daily Planet, off to the side. One was at the center of them, recording device locked firmly in his hand.

Diana swallowed as Clark's eyes brightened, holding her gaze. There was something horribly appealing about that tender look on his face, the sweep of dark hair slicked back atop his head. Clark placed the device on the breast pocket of his jacket, the side of his mouth lifting as he nodded at her.

Diana had to stop herself from glaring at him.

 _Gods,_ he was insufferable.

She wondered if it was simply a coincidence that Clark Kent happened to be _everywhere._

Or if it had something to do with her recent arrival in Metropolis.

:::

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the woman in pink's entrance, so, this was her. Luthor's infamous secret weapon, the one that Bruce had been searching for - all this time for three years straight. There was no denying the creatures beauty, but Bruce wasn't one of the men stupid enough to believe that there wasn't more than meets the eye with her. _This_ secret weapon of Luthor's was a cold blooded murderer, and she needed to be put down. Bruce moved forward, eyes set on the sight before him like a wolf to a human sacrifice. It was five minutes until the clock struck nine thirty - until three years worth of punishing preparation would come to a boiling head. He parted past embracing couples and -

" _Bruce, don't do anything rash."_ a saintly voice came from the regions of his mind " _We have to think of a logical way to approach this."_ Bruce ignored J'onn's gentle prod, he ducked past a marble pillar, eyes straining to find pink and raven in the swarm of bodies. He saw her again, walking through the crowd of prying eyes.

Bruce halted in his tracks, common sense routing him to the spot. As much as he hated to admit it J'onn was right, he had to be smart about this. What good would it do any of them to go in all guns blazing? He didn't even know what her abilities were yet. His hand moved discretely to his back pocket before retrieving his com-link and putting it to his lips. "You're right, J'onn."

J'onn sighed down the line. "That is good to know, my friend. For a moment I feared that you would do something that even you couldn't take back."

"We can't have that now, can we?" Bruce mumbled, distractedly, glare still trained on the dark haired woman stood just a few meters away. "We'll have to wait until an opportunity presents itself."

J'onn took a moment to glance at Bruce from across the ballroom, his jaw was tight with determination, his body rigid. "And what do you suggest we do in the mean time, Bruce?" he asked.

Bruce let out a dismayed breath down the line. "We improvise." he replied, sharply and J'onn glanced up just in time to see Bruce take his place at the podium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, If I can please have your attention." Bruce called out, tapping a fork against the flute in his hand and calling the attention of the entire room to him. "It's been a long time coming . . ." Bruce trailed off, garnering a murmur of laughter from the crowd. "I'd like to personally thank you all for sharing your evening with me, the turn out has been a delightful surprise." Bruce continued, "My late father Thomas Wayne always believed in something better for the city of Gotham, in giving something back to the community. That being said I have decided to donate an interest of one hundred _million_ dollars to the Gotham children's trust and in doing so I have developed a partnership with Themysciran Embassy for the creation of a new foundation."

A series of gasps ran around the room and the crowd started to clap, humming their amazement. Bruce soaked it all in with a pinched smile to his lips, one that did not reach his eyes. He waited until the applause died down before speaking again, "Thank you." Bruce countered, smoothly. "And now without further or do . . . It is within my greatest honor to present to you my newest business partner and the Queen of Themysciran Nation, Queen Hippolyta of Themyscira."

The crowd broke into applause once more as Bruce ushered a tall looking woman onto the stage. Her golden hair was exquisitely dressed in a high pompadour studded with pearls, and the woman donned a white gown reaching down to her feet. Bruce gave her a dashing grin before placing a chaste peck to her cheek and moving to stand beside her.

The crowd fell silent.

The Queen took in a careful breath, then let slip a dazzling smile. "Good evening, to you all." Hippolyta began, delicately. "On behalf of Themysciran Nation I must say that Themysciran Embassy is looking forward to working closely with Wayne Enterprises to protect the world's interests. Long ago, the goddess Athena created our lands as a sanctuary against the world of man and initially when my people and I first entered Man's World we were weary of it."

Hippolyta paused, then continued. "But regardless of that, the one thing that I have always told my peopleis that it is our sacred duty to defend the world and it's what we all must do."

The crowd erupted once more, the applause louder than before. "Thank you your Majesty, and if we can all raise our glasses." Bruce cut in, when the crowd finished with their final acclamation for the night.

The assemblage complied raising their glasses to the air.

"A toast . . . to a brighter future." Bruce said, raising his own flute, he caught sight of the woman in pink amongst the crowd and his eyes locked onto hers with intent. "And may we all get what we _deserve_ in the end."

From the crowd, Diana furrowed her brows and glanced back at Bruce. A second later, he winked back.

:::

As the evening wore on the dancing grew more and more uninhibited, the liquor changed from champagne and whiskey to rum and beer, and proceedings settled down to something more like a woolshed ball. Like Diana he didn't dance, and like Diana there were many eyes on him. Half of Clark hated her appearance tonight, the dark hair, the lovely dress, the dainty ashes-of-roses silk slippers with their two- inch heels; and that oh, so slender yet feminine figure. And half of him was busy being terrifically proud at the fact that she shone all the other young ladies down.

 _Diana Prince_ was all woman.

She moved like ice, with something guarded in her eyes that Clark could not understand. Clark wondered how she had mastered it: that cool, unaffected glance that broke past his skin and made him feel like she wasn't seeing him at all. Lois had jumped at the chance of interviewing her but Clark had advised her to wait until the dogs backed off.

Lois didn't know of the little incident that'd happened between him and Diana at Birch the day before and Clark was determined to keep it that way, knowing Lois she would most likely jump to some outrageous conclusion, wouldn't let him live it down.

Clark admired Diana from afar, the rest of the world becoming a commonplace entity, a blur in the background.

He hadn't caught the chance to catch a moment with her; men were practically eating out of her palm and him . . . he was under the cosh scooping interviews from the big leagues if not being dragged around by Lois Lane. Between them they had successfully gathered enough information to breach at least five major stories this week - make that six - if he was counting the Kurt Russo scandal.

Clark sighed, at least that would keep Perry White off his back for the time being. He blinked, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and _this_ time it wasn't for the sake of his Clark Kent persona. He watched as Diana shot down another peacocking idiot and laughed under his breath as his sharp ears picked up on her dismissal. Apparently decorum ranked higher than ill-mannered debutantes with fugly highlights after all.

Clark squared his shoulders. _Well, here goes everything,_ he thought to himself.

Diana was alone.

If there was ever a chance to talk to her, it was now.

Diana ignored the slew of men around her who all perked up at the very idea of being in her presence. Tonight seemed to be going smoothly, but she wasn't naive enough to assume that it would stay that way. Luthor had done his work well, Diana hated the attention, most women looked at her in silent envy, while others smiled at her in subtle awe, struck up conversations with the sort of bashfulness that only a human could possess. She had even caught the Ambassadors eye more than a few times, smiled politely when she glanced her way. But the woman never smiled back, only looked at her with something unreadable in her eyes, which had confused Diana to no end.

There was also that Bruce Wayne, fellow, he was an odd one too.

Diana raised her glass to her lips, before taking a modest sip. The champagne was tickling her nose and fizzing in her stomach, she felt wonderful.

"Penny for your thoughts, _Prince_." Diana froze at the sound of Clark's voice, grateful that she was still turned from him.

"Perfect." she grumbled.

A low chuckle came from behind her. "Ouch," he said, and laughed lightly. "You know for someone looking as _beautiful_ as you do, you sure are in a foul mood."

Diana flushed, she wondered if he'd ever run out of lines to whisper in her ear, if he was the cruelest sort of curse or the best kind of punishment. She let out an annoyed huff. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, _Mr Kent_." she murmured, simply. Diana turned to him, allowing a mock smile to slip, one that failed to mirror his own.

"So were back to the formalities?" Clark acknowledged, and he hated the way she said his surname, like she was punishing him for yesterday's antiques.

"Smart boy." Diana retorted.

Clark sighed, immediately catching her cold tone. "Which means you're still mad at me."

Down went the corners of her mouth, up shone that tense, glittering fierceness with the tang of hurt in it. Diana scowled, hating this beautiful man, his stunning height. "Not mad, Mr Kent. That would imply that one cares." she stated, fighting to keep her eyes away from his lips. "Which I don't."

Clark's blue eyes laughed, greyed under the lights. He found himself wanting to test that theory. "I _don't_ believe you."

Diana's mouth lowered to take another sip from her champagne, a drop fell to her bottom lip, and she swiped it of with her tongue, momentarily disgruntled. Clark swore his heart stuttered to a stop at the sight. "That's your problem."

Clark's lips lifted. "You're _stubborn_."

"You're persistent."

"Diana -"

" _Cowardice_ , Mr Kent." Diana said, stopping him short. "Your reputation does proceed you."

Clark let out a breath. "Meaning?"

"Meaning . . . " Diana enunciated. "That you are a conceited, arrogant journalist who thinks that he can tell the measure of a person just because he happened to have a coffee or two with someone. You're incorrigible." she spoke slowly, deliberately.

The words made him falter, if only for a moment. Diana watched as something strange flashed in his eyes, he worked his jaw until words seemed to come to him.

"Diana, I . . . I apologize for my choice of words . . . " he paused, letting the classical jazz set playing ease out the bleak tension between them. "But I won't apologize for being attracted to you . . . for how I feel." Clark said, he worried for a moment, thought Diana might start a scene - slap him right in the middle of the gala. But when Diana looked at him, she was eerily calm. Her eyes rested on him, aching, an old kind of pain on her dainty features.

The words chilled Diana to the bone, the way he looked at her sometimes . . . with so much warmth, and so much sincerity that she didn't know what to do with it. Clark took a half step toward her and Diana felt panic rise in the chest, gathering inside of her to cloud at her throat. She swallowed, quelling down the urge to run. "Don't do that?" she murmured, in a voice she herself didn't recognize.

"Do what?" Clark asked, so gently and tenderly that her heart knocked frantically, and seemed to die from the pain of it.

Diana almost forgot herself for a second. She held Clark's gaze, realized how close they were now, in the murmuring slew of bodies. "You know _what."_

Clark drew a breath, his lips curling up again, smiling softly. "You're a very complex woman, Diana Prince. Formidable, but complex."

Diana felt an odd twist in her stomach, she shook her head, pursing her lips. " _Clark_ you can't . . ."

"What . . . tell the truth? Clark interrupted, his voice deeper than ever. Diana's knees almost buckled at the sound. "Stop pretending this isn't something we both want."

Diana's eyes sparkled, stunned at how brazen he'd seemed to become in just the space of a few seconds. She almost weakened at the familiarity of the words. She'd be lying if she said that she'd tucked the memory of them away, erased it from her various indiscretions. But Clark Kent had a way of flooding her mind when she least expected it. Maybe it wasn't enough to pretend this wasn't happening.

 _Remember Diana, sever the head of the snake. Eliminate the problem,_ Her mind rattled, Luthor's words coming back to her, always finding a way to worm it's way back into the synapse of her brain. _It's not real,_ logic beckoned down her ear and somewhere along the complexity of mind and heart Diana made the conscious decision to choose rage over solitude.

She let out an unsteady breath. "You don't even know me, Clark."

"I'd like too" Clark replied, like it was the most simplest thing in the world. "If you'd give me the chance I'd like too."

"It's not going to happen, Clark." Diana finally snapped. Clark peered at her for a moment, taking a step back and regarding her furious expression. He ignored the odd panging in his chest. Diana pursed her lips, and shook her head, unable to look upon the wounded look in his eyes a second longer. "I need some air." she finally said, her heart thudding a dangerous rhythm. "Don't follow me."

With that Diana turned from him, poised to walk away, but he caught her wrist, slid his fingers down to her palm like he had done so many times before. He bent forward until he was level with her ear. "You can't live in fear, Diana." Clark whispered, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I learnt a long time ago to stop being afraid of going after the things that I want."

Clark watched as her mind raced, her heart hammering a death beat in her chest. Diana gasped, extricating herself from his grip before backing away. In the rosebud dress her retreating form was graceful, womanly and a little unreal. Ashes of roses.

 _How appropriate,_ Clark thought to himself, trying to remember when exactly he tripped.

And began to fall for Diana Prince.

:::

Bruce frowned, his eyes following the departing form of the Luthor girl, he then glanced back to where Clark stood, watching after her with something akin to longing in his eyes. He shook his head in amazement, bringing his com-link to his lips for the hundredth time that night. "J'onn did you see that?" He asked, on a fierce whisper.

J'onn's voice shattered Bruce's blind rage. "Yes, my friend." he replied, not missing a beat. "It appears that Superman is already acquainted with _the weapon_."

"I wonder what else he's acquainted with." Bruce rasped.

"His mind seems to be confused, right now." J'onn murmured, puzzled. "I can't get a proper read on him."

Bruce grinned, bitterly. "How convenient."

"Try to calm yourself, my friend." J'onn said, repeating his words from earlier. "We need to think strategically."

"No shit." Bruce said, albeit calmly.

There was pensive pause, a ship waiting to dock anchor.

"Do you think he knows?" J'onn asked, after a brief moment.

"You're the mind reader, J'onn." Bruce reminded.

"As I said before, I can't get a read on him." J'onn shot back, softly.

Bruce let out a breath. "Judging by the look on his face, not a chance." he deadpanned, grimly, his expression darkened.

"Should we warn him?"

Bruce watched as a flash of gold departed out of the ballroom the same way the other woman had. This night had certainly begun to take an interesting turn, and it made Bruce's job all the more easier - he was just about to grace J'onn with a response when he paused for a moment, an idea starting to dawn on him. Bruce pressed his lips together, downing the rest of his glass.

"Bruce, should we _warn_ him?" J'onn repeated in a tone that was much to condescending to be sincere.

Bruce took a moment to consider. A beat. A breath. "No . . . this could be good for us." he said after a while, it was then that Bruce Wayne succumbed to a decision that would no doubt step on lives, taint down hope. His words were final, his decision made, his judgement blunt and as cruel as it needed to be. All men had limits, they learned what they were and they learned not to exceed them.

Bruce just happened to ignore his.

:::

Diana let out breath of relief, she was leaning over the balcony that led out from the ballroom. The awning overhead shielded her from the snow, but the cold was still biting. Diana didn't care for it, the cold had never bothered her before, she stared forward at the snow covered ground before her, wondered if it was possible to seek solace in the blissful winds of a city that was forever destined to reside in darkness.

It was not to be achieved.

Diana exhaled, palms sliding across the railing that separated her from the city below. The storm was far from over - and Diana meant that in more ways than one. In a moment of weakness Diana found herself wanting to leave, to throw in the towel and fly back to the safety of her bedroom back at the Casanova Hotel. She wanted to be done with _Clark Kent -_ one man in three, done with Luthor and his obsession for a better world, but one thing stopped her - Luthor held the key - the key to everything, the key to who she was, the photograph. There was also the part where he had taught her how to survive in this world of chaos, Diana owed him everything. But why was one man - one _Superman -_ forcing her to question everything?

Diana shook her head, redemption was not an option for her. _Remember the plan_ _, Diana._ Diana thought to herself, she allowed her eyes to fall shut as she tilted her head skyward, let the wind leave pecks on her cheeks. Diana actually found herself feeling an ounce of tranquility when an unfamiliar heartbeat caught her ears. Her eyes snapped open, and she stiffened at the approach of an unwelcome presence behind her.

Diana knew it wasn't Clark because she would've recognized his heartbeat the instant he stepped onto the balcony.

 _"Beautiful night, isn't it?"_ a velvety voice sounded from behind her, in an accent almost as thick as her own and when Diana turned around, she caught the same intensity that was there in the words that had been uttered.

Diana parted her lips.

 **To Be Continued . . .**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 6, so trouble has already began to ensue. As you can probably tell, I'm at an insanely busy point in my year, so I'm going to keep this short! But I definitely didn't want to leave you guys hanging for a year, so I had to update. The support I've gotten from all of you has been amazing, and I'm so grateful for your awesome reviews. I hope you guys continue on this journey with me and keep on letting me know what you think - hopefully I haven't disappointed anyone because the tea is only just getting hot.

On a side note, I'm open for ideas so ping me a IM, and next chapter will be Chapter 7: _Within Temptation: Part Two_

Until next time beauts! xoxo


	7. Within Temptation: Part Two

VII

Within Temptation

(Part 2)

:::

 _April 29th, 2016: The Wayne Gala_

 _"Beautiful night, isn't it?"_ a velvety voice sounded from behind her, in an accent almost as thick as her own and when Diana turned around, she caught the same intensity that was there in the words that had been uttered.

Diana parted her lips.

She took in the sight before her with heedful eyes, from the Junoesque figure down to the Grecian sandals. The woman's bright eyes sparkled like gems, and if one looked closely enough the hint of a tiny grimace peaked at the corners of her pretty pink mouth. Diana almost blanched at the woman's stunning height, she was so startlingly tall that it threw Diana of balance the moment she turned around, but Diana knew that she herself could hold a candle to this woman before her, because as uncanny as it was she stood at the same height.

Diana swallowed soundly, her eyes squinting into the darkness.

It was Themysciran Queen, the one that _Bruce Wayne_ had introduced to the gala earlier that evening.

 _How strange,_ Diana thought fleetingly, she straightened herself out lifting her chin in a mark of dignified reverence. "Your Majesty . . . this is a pleasant surprise." she stated, shooting the woman a hesitant smile.

It was not returned.

The Queen glanced back at her, pale-blue eyes that seemed to go through Diana's very soul almost cutting her down. Diana stood stationed to her spot, she regarded the monarch curiously.

The Queen blinked, then cleared her throat. _"I apologize . . ."_ she said airily. _"I didn't intend to startle you."_

But the words came from somewhere far away, and for a moment Diana didn't know exactly if she was dreaming or if she was awake. Diana didn't recognize the sensation, it was like the blood was forcing itself to rush under her skin - a foreign concept to someone of her calibre - and she felt oddly nostalgic.

 _Those eyes._

Diana's own eyes fell closed, and she seemed to sway on her feet, she was almost certain she would swoon when she felt a firm grip on her arms. "Young woman . . ." came that voice again, snapping her out of her reverie. "Are you well?"

Diana blinked, shaking her head, she shifted, gradually coming back to herself. "Pardon?"

Hippolyta eyed her carefully. "I didn't intend to startle you." she repeated after a moment, patiently awaiting the young woman's descent into tranquility. Diana blinked, her cheeks flushing scarlet almost immediately. She drew in a breath, composing herself. "Quite the contrary, your grace."

Hippolyta released Diana's arms, taking an easy step backward. "It appears your thoughts were elsewhere."

Diana swallowed, trying to find an ounce of that formidable countenance. She took in a careful breath, and then another. "It appears so." she finally commented. "Forgive me, Your grace. That must have seemed incredibly rude."

"It is quite alright . . ." The Queen admonished.

Diana nodded, then shook her head, desperate to regain her focus. An awkward pause reigned, a reminder that she was a clueless innocent. The Queen watched on cynically, then moved to stand beside her. She faced away from Diana, watching as the street lamps flickered and illuminated the city bustle below, but Diana could only see shadows on her face, darkness crawling over her tight jaw.

"The cold does not bother you?" Hippolyta pointed out, her voice breaking the eerie silence around them. Her tone wasn't condescending, but honestly curious.

"No . . ." Diana stated, "I find it quite -

"Fascinating . . ."

Diana took a breath, glancing at Hippolyta in fascination, but The sovereign's face gave nothing away. "Yes."

Hippolyta straightened, considerably. "Forgive me for asking, but what pray tell is one such as yourself doing outside at this hour?" she questioned. "The gala is quite eventful . . . this brittle night is unmerciful."

Diana pursed her lips, out here on the balcony, draped in the shadow of a faultless night, there was no crippling paranoia, no preserved designations. She could almost forget the permanent tension that had built in her bones. "I'm taking a rain check." Diana affirmed, her voice distant, eyes vacant. "I think I'll skip the formalities."

At this, The Queen raised a fair eyebrow. " _A rain what?_ "

Diana blinked, unmoved. "It's a classic idiom." she deadpanned. "Foolish, really."

"Seeking solace, then?"

Diana tensed, immediately, _Clark Kent_ flooded her mind. A day prior they'd been back at Birch Coffee, perched in the same spot where he'd first touched her. He'd been sitting across from her, gazing back at her like there was nothing else in the world. Diana had never been looked at that way. There had always been something else - priorities and moral influence.

Statistics.

But Clark was entranced. On impulse her eyes found the two glass doors that would shepherd her back into the benefit and she swallowed, her posture faltering for a moment before she managed to glance back at The Queen. "Yes." she murmured, calming her tone. "S _omething_ like that."

Hippolyta marveled at the words, her lips pressed together tightly as she tested it out. "A rain check." she mirrored. "Now I really have heard everything."

Diana bit the inside of her cheek. "This world . . ." she trailed off, absently. "It is one _confounding_ mystery." Her own words had her brows furrowing, Diana didn't even know this woman and yet her internal opinions were surging freely from her mouth.

"Indeed." The Queen agreed. "I must confess that I myself was a little skeptical about entering the world of man. As an Ambassador of Themysciran Embassy and a reigning monarch it is a sacred duty of mine to defend all aspects of The Gods creations . . . even if they do not deserve it."

Diana nodded, trying to shake a surge of unorthodoxed curiosity. "And that is your mission?"

The Ambassador's eyes went vacant, her expression taking on a sudden intensity as she parted her lips, let out a breath. "By the unity of two worlds I can only hope that my efforts are enough. Eons ago, when time was new and all of history was still a dream, The Gods knew that one day a great evil would return to finish their mission." she explained. "An _endless_ war, where mankind would finally destroy themselves and us with them. A weapon was granted, one powerful enough to kill a god."

Diana stood, listening carefully, hanging onto every word as if they were engaging in some magnanimous tête-à-tête. Which for some strange reason appeared to be the case.

"Centuries ago this weapon was lost to us." Hippolyta continued. "I have come to this land to retrieve it."

First came a wild desire to scoff, a great surge of uproarious anticlimax; then she glanced at the Queen's solemn expression. This woman was serious, and Diana knew that she of all people couldn't be surprised, take _her_ for example - A kindred soul, a creature alone in this fiendish world with no recollection of her history. It almost reminded Diana of herself.

The only difference was that this Queen knew of her heritage, was certain of her decree.

"That is a _beautiful_ story, Your Majesty." she said, in a voice that she herself didn't recognize.

"It is not a story, girl." Hippolyta admonished, her voice suddenly sharp, almost determined. "It is history, my _people's_ history."

The words made Diana falter, if only for a moment. "I didn't intend to offend - "

"You didn't."

"I - "

"What is your name, child?" Hippolyta cut in, Diana frowned, hating to be ignored and detesting being questioned. She dug her nails into her palms and narrowed her eyes. She stared at the woman for a moment that seemed to last forever, then poised herself, brushed her hair back with the fingers of an eternal perfectionist.

"Diana." she replied. " _Diana Prince._ "

The Queen's lips twitched up slightly, the warmest expression she'd seen on her face yet. " _Diana_." the word rolled off her tongue, "The Roman Goddess of the moon and hunt."

Diana's throat dried. "I must say goodnight."

"Miss Prince." Hippolyta called out. "That _talisman_ on your finger, might I ask how it came to be in your possession?"

Diana could barely breath - the winds had to shift sometime, she supposed - she glanced down, toying with the ruby ring resting snugly around her dainty finger and she cleared her throat, wondering which of the hundreds of psychological tricks this one was. Finally she let a bit of the truth escape, her eyes careful as she spoke. "I have had it for as long as I can _remember_."

The Queen seemed to eye her carefully.

"It is quite a thing . . . timeless, beautiful . . ." Hippolyta trailed off, holding her breath. "Make sure you are worthy of it."

Diana lost in the moment, could only manage a quick nod, she watched as Hippolyta pulled something from her clutch, a gold card with crystal detail, a telephone number drawn out in cursive.

"This is the number for my secretary Julia Kapatelis," Hippolyta said. "I have quite enjoyed your company tonight, Miss Prince. I would very much like it if we could do this again in the future."

Diana almost recoiled, but she offered up a tiny beam, her own smile betraying the confusion she felt. She straightened, took the card from The Queen's outstretched hand with a hint of apprehension. Diana realized that she'd temporarily forgotten herself. "Good night, Your Highness." she said, in that opulent way of hers.

"Good night, _Diana_." Hippolyta replied. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Diana shot her one last queer look before backing away, almost frowning at the sudden queasiness unfurling in her stomach. Perhaps some moments were better left silent. After all this night had seemed to harbor a rather unexpected turn of events - it had actually come as quite a shock to her - but as Diana Prince descended back into the sparkling pageantry of Bruce Wayne's annual gala not even she could help but wonder about Themysciran Queen.

Maybe this benefit wasn't as doomed as it seemed.

Hippolyta tightened her lips, the smile dropping from her face as she watched Diana disappear behind the silk curtains.

Gaea, it was just as she had feared, perhaps even worse. Hermes had told her of the initial lapse in memory and Hippolyta was no fool, even with her memories Diana still wouldn't of known who she was - but that aside what had just transpired here had managed to rattle the Amazon Queen. Diana had been apart of her, she'd come _from_ her, and Zeus had collected her long before Hippolyta could teach her how to love, how to feel the things that other people do. Hippolyta had shouldered that guilt for millenniums, the pain forever written in her bones.

Zeus had only ever granted Hippolyta one thing, and that had been naming the child. It had been right then and there in her mind that Hippolyta had christened her Diana, the only name she had known elegant enough for such a peerless creature.

It had seemed to be of a mysterious work of chance.

That there . . . standing regally before her had been her child, the baby daughter that once upon a time Hippolyta had nestled close to her breast. Only it wasn't, it was a soldier of chaos, capable of things only a true monster could commit, tainted by one man's influence.

Yes, Hippolyta had been sending Phillipus to watch Diana for a while now - she knew all about Diana's work with MetaHuman affairs, of the moral influence that Alexander Luthor held over her daughter. The man had done his work well, for Diana didn't know of any father, mother or Gods for that matter.

The child didn't even know _what_ she was.

Hippolyta would kill Luthor for this, but first she would save her daughter and bring forth the weapon. The planets were aligning, a great evil was on the rise and Olympus called.

Time was steadily coming to the end of it's rope.

:::

Diana stepped back into the tumult that was Bruce Wayne's benefit, suddenly exhausted. Neck damp with the scent of Lavender Lumé (angels and decadence, The shopkeeper had called it), Her feet arched inside of her pink slippers and she found herself shuffling over to a quiet spot in the room. Nails prickled her skin as she shrank back, her mind dragging up the conversation she'd just had a few minutes prior.

 _Those eyes._

Diana massaged her temples. _Get it together Diana,_ she told herself. She swallowed, shaking her head a fraction of an inch before straightening herself out, Diana was trying extremely hard not to think about it. She looked out at the collection of mingling couples. The atmosphere in the room was electric, fitted up with official, commonplace elegance. Beautiful men and women stood whimsically, draped in expensive shawls and fur coats.

They toyed with icy sparklers and mingled with scrambling servers before collecting their drinks.

Diana didn't understand it one bit.

She let out a breath through her nose, pretending to be captivated by the crystal chandelier, presenting spectacularly from the ceiling - even if she had seen a dozen others like it. Diana knew that it was a fake. She was actually considering making a break for it when a voice whispered down her ear. "Spectacular, isn't it?"

Diana jumped, eyes widening as she turned towards the voice. Bruce Wayne, the man of the hour stood beside her, glass of brandy clutched firmly in one hand. His eyes were clever and taunting, but his smile was kind. He was the kind of handsome that was much too dark to be good for you.

A woman like Diana was much too adept for that.

Diana knew all about him, had memorized a full page spread of him along with the other members of the JLA. _The Bat of Gotham._ She regarded him, alerted by the calculated look in his eyes, the dark hair pressed slickly back atop his head _._ Apparently, this man had a knack for agility, she hadn't even sensed his presence. Diana poised herself, suddenly on edge, Bruce Wayne was going to be a problem, too.

" _Grand_." Diana said swiftly, not missing a beat.

It was unintentional pleasantry.

Bruce raised his glass to his lips, he sipped it leisurely, taking a hearty gulp before commenting rather dryly. "It's a fake."

Diana almost scoffed. "I am quite aware of that."

Bruce raised a dark eyebrow. "Smart girl," he observed. "Not just a pretty face, then."

"Does that surprise you?"

"Should it?" Bruce challenged.

Diana pressed her lips together, choosing not to respond. The man smiled, took it upon himself to creep closer. "I don't think we've been formerly introduced." he said, moving to stand in front of her, hand reaching out to shake hers. The trademark Wayne heirloom glinting up at her. "Bruce Wayne."

Diana forced a smile, taking his hand. "Diana Prince."

"Pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Miss Prince." Diana held Bruce's gaze as he dipped his head to brush a chaste peck against her knuckles, eyes sparkling under the dewy glow of the chandeliers. He grinned at her, and her chest seized in both anger and wariness, she pried her gaze away from his smug, sure expression.

"Charmed, Mr Wayne." Diana said, her tone crisp.

" _Please_ . . ." he paused, for effect. "Call me Bruce."

Diana decided that she would do not such thing, she wondered when he would initially drop the act, how eyes could darken to pitch black in just one second.

"You seem distracted." Bruce rasped, his voice toneless, his eyes devilish as they trapped her. But Diana's eyes remained cold and dead when she stared back at him, she was in no mood for his antics. Bruce watched her, a man without the burden of a soul. His counter plan seemed to be falling into place, and he had the Luthor girl right where wanted her.

Diana pursed her lips, murmured. "You're an observant one, aren't you?"

"You're transparent."

She threw him a sharp look when she said, "Impeccable detective work, Mr Wayne."

"Of Course, Miss Prince." Bruce drawled. "Besides, there's something _alluring_ about an angel drawn to the dark side."

Diana swallowed, glancing down at the pink rosebuds on her slippers. "Or a devil redeemed."

The man straightened with feigned curiosity. "You know your idioms."

Diana's head whipped up at this, she was so close to him now that she could smell the man's expensive cologne - Clive Christian No 1 and apples soaked in ashes - could see the dents in his milky white skin. _Battle scars,_ Diana realized, she forced herself to calm down, quelled down the urge to decapitate Bruce Wayne right in the middle of the gala. "Literary is a fondness of mine."

"Apparently." he remarked.

"It appears arrogance is one of yours."

Bruce didn't even flinch. "It doesn't bother you?" he asked, swiping a hand over his jaw. "Most women would leap straight to debauchery."

"Oh . . ." she breathed, a glint sparkling in her eyes. "I don't think you've ever known a woman like me."

Bruce didn't react, instead he glanced around the ballroom. "It makes a man wonder . . . how a woman _like_ you can be left alone." he said, shifting so that he could press that much closer to her. "You look _stunning_ if it isn't obvious."

"Thank you." Diana whispered, despite herself.

"A simple acknowledgement of the truth." He said.

Diana almost frowned, but managed to keep face, deciding to play along. She had to give it to him, Bruce Wayne was smart, but she was smarter. "I must confess that you look rather dashing yourself."

Bruce's mouth twitched, before lifting into the faintest of smiles. He said, eyes shining. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Diana almost declined, but something whispered down her ear that this was some sort of test. She narrowed her eyes, challenge accepted. Diana gave Bruce an appreciative smile and nodded her acceptance, giving the room a once over as Bruce motioned for a waiter, a stout looking young woman with a golden smile, before collecting a single glass of champagne from the silver tray. Diana took the chalice with a careful nod of the head, mumbling her thanks before taking a careful sip.

Bruce on the other hand watched her keenly, itching for a reaction. He had laced that specific glass with Phoenix ash earlier that night, a concentrated poison that was lethal to rogue liabilities. His eyes widened, and he waited patiently for the moment that she'd keel over and start to gag on air.

It never came.

Bruce felt his rage blaze to life like hot smoke. He sucked down a livid gulp from his own glass, wincing as the brandy burned a scorching trail of fire down his throat, then cracked down his glass on the bar behind them.

Diana raised a brow. "Heavy handed?"

Bruce snickered, but nothing was really all that funny. "You have no idea."

"Care to test that theory?" she retorted.

"Careful." Bruce said, dangerously. "Sounds like a challenge."

Diana could barely stomach that look on his face. He was completely unreadable, incomprehensible, a lock without a key in sight. Diana hated it, and she hated him. She smiled at him, sickly sweet. "Who says it wasn't."

Bruce straightened, catching the rage before it fled. "You're confident." he drawled, quickly deciding on another tactic. "I like that in a woman."

As he said this Diana caught sight of Clark over Bruce's shoulder, he stood amongst the sea of his associates looking sheepish as he clutched his own drink. Diana frowned, watched as Miss Lane squeezed his shoulder. "Is that so?" she breathed distractedly, watching them all laugh at something the little red head said.

"It is." Bruce confirmed, his expression smooth.

"What else do you like in a woman?" she asked, flicking a loose tendril back to catch another glance at the cluster of reporters. Already Clark had caught her glance, always finding no matter where she went. Diana's throat dried, she raised her glass to her suddenly parched lips, and slipped out her tongue, her eyes closing as the fizzing substance poured into her mouth.

Bruce replied, with the charm of a saint. " _Good sex._ "

Diana's eyes snapped open to gape at Bruce, the champagne shot down her throat in a painful lump and it was a wonder that she didn't choke on her drink. She bit the inside of her cheek, her temper flaring as she looked up at the man before her. _Gods!_ Diana let out a flustered breath, the words made her falter, if only for a moment, but she recovered with the speed of a champ, arching a fine dark brow and mustering up as much flirtation as she could manage. Somehow, she found her voice, found the bit of Luthor that had influenced her. "I was being existential."

"I was being literal." Bruce replied, but her flush was enough of a response. "Check mate."

"You make a fantastic point." Diana deadpanned, placing her unfinished drink on the bar next to Bruce's empty glass.

"I'm _Bruce Wayne_." he said by way of explanation, an endearing smoulder twisting on his features, he offered her his hand. "Grace us with a _dance_."

Diana startled, her composure almost faltering again. "I -"

"Come on," Bruce said, a lethal twinkle in his stony eyes. "I _dare_ you."

Diana glanced at his hand, then at him. But said nothing, usually this would be the point when she would disappear, when she'd whack across a quick text to Luthor to inform him of her discoveries. She swallowed, unused to being so out of touch with her instincts, bracing herself as she took Bruce's outstretched hand.

She glanced around, taking a cautious step forward then followed where Bruce Wayne tread.

:::

Angels often came in rare forms.

And tonight one happened to be dressed in wild orchid. The two glided through the room as if they were some scandalous, hot couple residing on Park Avenue. His hand resting on her lower back, his lips brushing her ear. Clark's grip on his glass tightened, to the point where he thought he would break it and he watched on, seething, as the two of them met in the middle of the ballroom, two dark souls reflecting everything that he was not.

Clark hated it.

He watched as Bruce drew Diana against him, and just knew that it would make tomorrows headlines, which made his blood boil even more than he thought possible for someone with _his_ Kryptonian DNA. Clark couldn't look away. He lingered by his fellow workmates, engaging in mindless small talk as he eavesdropped on her conversation with Bruce, he frowned at a particular comment, teeth grinding in a way that Martha Kent would've chided him for. Clark was only half aware of Lois barking at an intoxicated Jimmy Olsen - she was completely preoccupied - which was a good thing, he supposed. She didn't catch the silent stare down that he and Diana were partaking in from across the room.

Lois glared at Jimmy, arms crossed, totally pissed off.

"I only had - " Jimmy raised his fingers, frowning as he silently counted. "I only had one drink." Jimmy held up three fingers as he said it, and Lois rolled her eyes, peeved by the vacant look in his eyes, the auburn hair damp on his forehead. "Tonight is the night, Lollipop. Tonight is . . . this is it." He was nearly incoherent as he pumped his fist in the air, sloppily smiling down at Lois.

"Tonight?" Lois snapped. "Jimmy you're supposed to be scooping a story, not . . . dammit." she shook her head in irritation. "Listen, Olsen. You're going to sober up _now._ I'm not going to play your designated babysitter all night. Honestly, you sound like a tipsy school girl."

"You're so sweet, Lollipop." Jimmy laughed, stroking her cheek. Lois slapped his hand away, which only encouraged him to squeeze the tip of her nose. Lois seethed, slapping him again and giving a sharp and impatient twist to his wrist.

"Stop it, or I'll hurt you." Lois hissed, exasperated. "This is unprofessional, you're ruining my reputation. Pull yourself together, Olsen."

Jimmy grinned, looking much like a young boy as he squished Lois's cheeks together "Yes, Captain Lane." Lois slid his hands from her face, propping him against a nearby table for support. She peered around the room, straightening her neck to get rid of the creak in it, then sighed glancing at Clark. He seemed to be looking at something in the crowd, something that had garnered his undivided attention.

Lois furrowed her brows, her eyes following Clark's line of fire, she narrowed her eyes.

 _Of course,_ she mused dryly, The Agent.

She eyed _Miss Congeniality_ and her elegant demeanor for a moment, the unruly hair-do, the rosy lipstick, the kind of beauty that was so dark, yet so endearing that it seemed to be the fancy of every man in the room tonight, even a few women, then looked down at herself. The white oxford shirt she sported, contrasting against the plain black suit jacket and matching pencil skirt she wore, tight against her curves.

For the first time in her life, jealousy struck her.

Lois's cheeks flushed in irritation. "Smallville." she hissed, eyes squinted as she regarded him. "You're eyes look _strange_."

Clark's cheeks reddened, and he turned from her, hands nudging aside his glasses to rub frantically at his eyes. "Darn it." he mumbled, "I think there's . . . uh . . . something in my eyes." he blinked profusely before turning back to her with an awkward laugh, then brushed his palm up the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Lois . . . what were you saying?"

Lois rolled her eyes, feeding herself a Belgium truffle. "Get your head out of the clouds, Smallville." she said, "I need you to scoop a story with Agent Prince and Mr Wayne over there." she countered, pointing casually toward the golden couple.

Clark tensed. "What?"

Lois reacted like a cat out for cream. " _Playboy billionaire_ meets _American beauty queen._ Please, it's perfect." she continued, keeping her eyes on Clark. "I reckon Wayne has his eye on that one."

"Lois, wouldn't you be more suited to - " Clark began, but Lois cut him off seamlessly, not taking no for an answer.

"Don't be daft, Smallville" she snorted, with brutal finality in her words. "You're doing it."

"Lois, I can't . . ."

Lois frowned, clearly not seeing the problem. "You have too, Smallville." she said, "We both know how Perry is. We have to strike while the iron's hot."

There was nothing that could be said, telling Lois that he felt miserable watching Bruce sweep Diana off her feet wasn't an option that sounded feasible. "Lois . . ." he warned, "No."

"Their not going to bite you, Smallville." Lois challenged.

Clark tightened his lips, and his expression darkened to a glare that was nearly lethal. It must've truly been a sight to behold, the mild mannered Clark Kent - comedy gold to the vultures of The Daily Planet - once again outmatched by the sharp tongue of one infuriating Lois Lane.

Lois started to laugh and Clark hated it. It was the ultimate insult, the kind that meant Lois was laughing at you, rarely with you. "Relax, Smallville." she said, easily setting the bait for him, her smile was dazzling. "It's just another scoop, _right_?"

Clark straightened, suddenly hit with the urge to escape. "Right."

Lois nodded at his words, seemingly satisfied. "Get the story, Smallville." she breathed. "And try not to fall all over Agent Prince while your at it."

Clark smiled wryly, he knew what Lois was doing. They had danced this dance before, three years ago to be exact, the only difference was that he had been in the suit. "Roger that, Lois."

Miffed, Lois turned away, finding James Callahan and linking her arm through his before heading back into the sea of people, already sniffing out her next story. Clark let out a long breath, he glanced briefly at Cat Grant, whose excitement was plastered all over her cheeky features. _Rao,_ she was like Jimmy in female form, he shook his head eyes trailing back to the sight that was Diana Prince locked firmly in the embrace of Bruce Wayne, his best friend and long standing comrade.

Apparently the _Bruce Wayne_ charm wasn't as rusty as he'd thought, unlike the knife in his back.

Betrayal had never tasted so tart.

Clark dropped his glass onto an empty tray resting on the small table beside him, two more seconds and he was almost certain that it would have shattered under his grip. Jimmy who had remained suspiciously silent throughout the whole ordeal finally piped up. "Oh no . . ." the red head murmured, with a hint of mirth. "I've seen that look before, CK."

Clark let out an impatient breath. "What are you talking about, Jim?"

Jimmy looked at Clark knowingly. "You've got it . . . _bad_."

Clark scoffed, not appreciating Jimmy's crypticness in the slightest. "You're drunk, Jimmy."

Jimmy let slip an excitable chuckle. "But I'm right."

"I don't even know her." Clark said on a sharp breath, repeating Diana's livid words from earlier that night.

Jimmy regarded Clark through bright eyes, nudged the crook of his elbow with his own "If I were you . . . I'd go and get my girl." he paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "Before somebody else does."

Clark's eyes widened.

It was the most rational thing that Jimmy Olsen had said all night, perhaps even in his life and Clark found himself momentarily stunned at the smaller man's sudden maturity. Jimmy gave him a toothy grin and then the Jimmy that Clark knew and worked with was back, he snatched up a tall glass of Château Lafite from a passing waiter, swallowing it down in one satisfied gulp.

Clark pondered over Jimmy's novel choice of words until it seemed to seep into his skin. _Was Jimmy right?_ Clark licked his lips, trying to rationalize with himself but he came up short. It was in that moment, in that timeless suspended second that Clark knew that he was. He heard the slow melody of a love song begin, felt his stomach do an odd twist when Diana caught his eyes again from the center of the room.

He wanted her . . . bad.

:::

The Wayne Gala made Diana nostalgic.

It was an inevitable feeling, dropping upon her as Bruce Wayne led her through the sea of elegant dresses, slightly tipsy chaperones, and hushed conversations. Diana felt a glow on her cheeks as Bruce admired her pink dress, the way it pulled tight at the bodice and swished above her feet. She had to admit that he looked rather dashing at her side, wearing a nicer tux than most of the other men in the room. The entire gala was aware of them, gravitating towards the pair like moths to a flame, they were easily the two most beautiful people in the room.

Harp strings battled soft ballads as waiters swished through the crowd with champagne poppers and flutes of pink liquid. Moonlight poured into the room from the balcony windows, flooding the ballroom in a haze of glistening white. As Bruce whispered to her, Diana's mind conjured up the image of hair like tarnished gold, eyes as warm as the sun. She found herself searching the room, looking for a flash of jasmine amongst the crowd, but the woman from the balcony was no where to be seen. Diana was starting to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

"You're a sight to behold, _Miss Prince._ " Bruce murmured. "It's quite . . . _distracting_."

Diana licked her lips as he said it, she caught Clark's eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. He was stood with that red haired man, Jimmy Olsen she had discovered his name was, sipping from a glass of punch as he stared back at her. There was something inexplicable in his eyes. _Could he hear what Bruce was saying to her?_

It was all Diana could do not to stare.

Her cheeks threatened to bleed red and she pasted on a flirtatious smile before glancing back to Bruce, one that looked nothing like the one from before. "Is flattery the equivalence of debauchery in your books, Mr Wayne?"

"Am I that obvious?" Bruce questioned, drawing her from him before twirling her around in a pleasant spin.

Diana swallowed, forced herself to breath as he spun her back to him with one deft tug. "Yes."

"Interesting." Bruce replied, "You don't find it obtuse at all?" His stare held firm, his grip on her even firmer. Diana forced a tiny smile, fully aware that camera's were flashing around the room, it appeared that she and the knight of darkness were causing quite the spectacle.

"Please." Diana said, temporarily removing a hand from his shoulders to swipe at a raven lock that had fallen into her face. "I'm not offended by your lack of finesse."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm not sure that I follow, Mr Wayne."

Bruce shook his head. "Correct me if I'm wrong. But you're here representing DOMA, am I correct?"

Diana tensed, this man was treading on dangerous territory. "Yes." she breathed, "I was requested to attend as sole representative tonight."

"Married to the job." Bruce acknowledged, but the charm was gone from his face, and his tone was dead. "It must be quite demanding. I take it you work quite closely with _Mr Luthor._ "

"Mr Luthor is very a busy man, Mr Wayne . . ." Diana trailed off, feigning nonchalance. "Rarely anyone at DOMA gets to see him."

"Pity that," Bruce's tone had changed. "It must make your job quite difficult."

Diana smiled, innocently. "Not in the slightest, Mr Wayne. Besides, you don't send a man to do a woman's job."

Bruce smirked, a bitter grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If that's your story."

Diana chose to ignore him.

"I have to say that I'm quite impressed." Bruce whispered, catching her lower back with one hand, dipping her low until her hair almost brushed the floor. She lost her breath when he pulled her up again, swaying to the music. His grip on her tightened, "The whole babe in the woods façade, it makes sense why they would send you."

Diana regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Don't condescend me, Mr Wayne." she retorted. "I know things, I've seen things that many are completely oblivious too. You on the other hand -" She stopped, preparing for the blow. "Are just an unavoidable inconvenience."

Something changed in Bruce then. Even before she'd been acquainted with this man Diana had noticed that he'd had this slightly unhinged look to him. But now, his cheeks flared red, his eyes widened, and the purple vein at the left of his forehead bulged beneath his skin.

Diana instinctively raised her chin, facing his blazing gaze dead on. The tight grip that he'd had on her hand found it's way to her arm, but she didn't even flinch. Her features crinkled into a heavy frown, and her skin burned a pink so hot that she thought she might combust. This man had three seconds, three seconds before she went old fashioned on him. "I think you've had a bit to many, Mr Wayne." she sniffed, in a voice void of any emotion.

 _Three._

Bruce's eyes sparkled. "It appears so."

 _Two._

"Remove your hand, Mr Wayne." Diana said, glancing down at his hand in warning. "Before I _break_ it."

It was when Bruce ducked his head to whisper whatever outrageous thing lay next that she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Bruce grinned before drawing away, Diana turned to see Clark standing before her, mischief taunting his wounded eyes.

Her eyes narrowed. "You again."

Clark regarded her expression for a moment, fighting the smile starting on his lips. "Afraid so."

Diana frowned at him, irritated by his taunting, she let out a shallow breath, fighting to grasp her temper before it detonated in a magnificent show of spontaneous combustion. In truth she was barely holding it together. That bastard, he was _onto_ them. She had to get away, had to tell Luthor before the control fled so far from her grasp that it'd be too late.

Bruce looked at Clark. " _Mr Kent_ , I figured your kind would be sniffing around here."

Clark nodded, keeping his eyes on Diana as he answered. "Right you were, Mr Wayne."

Bruce's gaze remained cool, entertained by what was unravelling before him. "I expected no less." he said, drily. "Is there something you wanted?"

"A dance." Clark replied, he glanced at Bruce. "Can you spare her for a moment, Mr Wayne?"

"She's all yours." Bruce smirked. "It was a pleasure, Miss Prince."

Diana stilled when he grabbed her hand, taking it gingerly and raising it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his facade slipping for a moment as he bowed his head. When he straightened, they both stared at each other, and Diana saw something in his eyes that she didn't like. She could barely manage an icy glare before Clark grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face him. She gasped as her chest brushed his with an intimacy she couldn't quite grasp.

"That's better." Clark drawled.

Diana swallowed when his hand found hers, fingers snaking though her own before curling to grasp her hand tightly, she let out a sharp breath. "Don't." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "We've discussed this."

"Relax, Prince." Clark teased, half amused, mostly _terrified,_ but his steady gaze wouldn't betray him. Clark glanced down at her, found that he had a hard time breathing, overwhelmed not by the beauty of the room, but of the one stood before him. He sighed, fingers spreading at her lower back. "I've been told I need to interview you."

Diana licked her lips. "Commence."

"Diana, I - "

"Clark." she warned.

Clark shook his head, incredulous. "So is that your plan . . ." he murmured under his breath, so that only she could hear. "You're just going to ignore _this_."

Diana let out a breathy little laugh, one that lacked the humor. "Give the boy a prize."

"You don't need to do that, Prince _._ "

Diana blinked. "Do what?"

"Pretend."

"Who said anything about pretending."

" _Diana_."

Diana looked up, choking on her response. A terrifying tenderness crept against her, almost inside her, except that she fought it fiercely. He was clearly amused by her dumbstruck expression, and she struggled to get a hold of herself. There was something about the way he emphasized her name that made Diana lose her focus, forcing her to blink again. "The Interview, Mr Kent." she managed to reply, feeling panic rise in the chest. "You're on the clock."

Clark's jaw clenched, peeved at her hostile reaction. "You're deflecting."

Diana arched a brow. "Is that so?"

"Stop avoiding the subject." Clark breathed, his head ducking right beside hers.

The whisper washed against her skin, igniting her flesh as she took in the words. "You can't _avoid_ something if it isn't there to begin with." Diana said, tired of this script.

"Your so _stubborn_ ," Clark chided, his breath hot on her cheek. "But you can't deny it, Diana." He squeezed her fingers through his, the touch was enough to give Diana the same butterflies she'd had in her stomach since that first interview at Birch, when things were easier and her judgement wasn't being clouded. Clark smiled, hearing her heart flutter. "There's a connection between us."

Diana bit down on her lip and forced herself to look past his shoulder. Clark Kent was too beautiful, too tragic to hold in with a simple glance. If she looked for too long, she might just break. But maybe that was what he wanted. She needed to focus, she braced herself, heat spreading throughout her stomach. "Is that what you think?"

Clark raised his head to look at her, his eyes, very blue behind the glasses, rested on her with a look of firm determination. "That's what I know." he said, firmly. "Lies of omission can only get you so far, Diana."

The lights from the chandelier trickled down the strands of her hair and Clark watched as her cheeks flashed red, relishing in it. He watched the corner of her lips quiver now as if the mere movement was the most fascinating thing in the world. He had once trained his body to be in tune with the human specimen, most notably female ones. It had been a tedious thing he'd learnt as a child in order to make sure that he wouldn't hurt anyone.

The words made Diana waver, but she held firm, a wild soul that could not be stopped until she found what she was looking for and, even then, it was not enough. Diana shook her head, adamantly. "You're being foolish." she bit back, the nape of her neck going flush.

Clark's eyes were earnest. "You're afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Not of me, Diana." Clark continued, treading with caution. "Of yourself."

Diana recoiled as if she'd just been slapped.

Her gaze hardened, and Clark sighed. Every step forward was five steps back. He'd pulled at a rip at Birch, but she was quick to seam it back up before he could see inside. His words had drawn a weakness in her, and she was back to being the cold-hearted queen who'd walked into his office nearly a month ago.

A sharp laugh escaped her throat, one of disbelief, one to mask the hurt. "And what would you know of it?" she seethed, extricating herself from his grasp. "You're just a witless reporter."

This time Clark's face darkened.

Clark held her gaze so fiercely that she thought he might burn her with his stare. "Hitting below the belt, Diana." he said, a sharp twist in his tone. He held one wrist, keeping her in place, taking care not to hurt her with his true strength.

"Take your interview, _Mr Kent_." Diana repeated, her eyes wild.

"You're running away, Diana." Clark accused, refusing to back down. "Stop lying to yourself."

Diana let out an exasperated breath, tucking a black strand of hair behind her ear. "You have such a rose tinted view of this world." she hissed, matching his frustration, toxic tangling with venom until it faded to dust. "You speak to me of fear, when perhaps you're the one who should be holding up a mirror to them self."

Clark's thick brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned, but Diana simply shook her head, frustrating him beyond belief.

She tightened her lips. "Enough, Clark."

"Diana - "

" _Enough_." Diana said, almost yelling. Those within earshot glanced around from their mingling, nudged at each other to stare at the heated pair in the centre of the ballroom. Diana's face flushed, her lips came together, and she lowered her voice. "You're causing speculation." she whispered, and then she was gone, her hips swaying as she sidled through the crowd, appraised by every single person she passed by.

Clark frowned, infuriated by her dismissal. And then he was moving from his place, chasing after her, forgetting all about his interview for tomorrows spread.

There was something about the way she pushed that made him pull and vice versa. He pushed through the crowds of Armani and Versace, nodding to a few other guests on his way, slipped his way through the kitchens at the back. He watched as Diana ducked into a side passageway, in between the main building and a backstreet takeout shop.

Clark took a breath before walking in behind her.

:::

"She threatened me." Bruce hissed, squeezing the com-link until his knuckles burned white. "J'onn, did you manage to get a read on her?"

J'onn sighed into the receiver. "I'm afraid not, my friend." he explained. "It was like _something_ was blocking me. It is quite difficult to explain."

Bruce grit his teeth, his eyes falling shut as he tried to calmed himself down, as he swallowed down red-hot anger. "And Clark?"

"It is worse than I feared." he said softly, and Bruce could picture J'onn shaking his head now. "It appears that Superman is harboring _intense_ feelings towards the weapon."

"Really, J'onn." Bruce seethed, "I didn't notice."

"Take it easy, Bruce." J'onn said, placidly. "I need you to tell me what happened."

"What do you think happened, J'onn." Bruce snapped, weaving his way through the cluster of bodies. He took a frustrated breath, and then another, his eyes roaming the crowd for a particular raven haired couple, they were no where to be seen, nothing had ever put Bruce's back up more. He narrowed his eyes, muttering to himself. "I can't see them."

"Bruce, what happened?" J'onn repeated.

"It didn't work." Bruce fumed, forcing himself to stay calm. "The phoenix ash, it had no effect on her."

J'onn didn't seem surprised. "I figured as much."

"Be more specific, J'onn."

"I don't think she's of this world."

Bruce halted in his tracks, a tight frown beginning to crease his brows. "You think she's an alien?"

"I'm not sure, my friend." J'onn replied. "But from what I _could_ sense from her there was great power there. Almost, matching that of a Kryptonian."

Bruce cursed, tightening his lips. It was a cold anger, the kind that was unchecked. He pondered the idea. "How convenient." he murmured.

"What are you going do, my friend." J'onn asked firmly, his voice going as taut as it had ever been.

Bruce fell silent.

" _Bruce_." J'onn came again.

"I'm not sure yet, J'onn." Bruce rasped, his tone was morose. "But the others can't know about this, it stay between us until further notice. In the mean time, I need you to go and find Alfred, I'm shutting this down."

J'onn sounded worried. "And what of Kal?"

Bruce paused, letting out a ragged breath. "Collateral damage." he said, never one to beat around the bush, he pressed his lips together before promptly switching his com-link off altogether, eyes searching for his line of fire. He moved swiftly through the mass of satin beings, oblivious to the insignificant snobs who occupied the space.

But unbeknowst to Bruce one person lingered patiently, stationed off to the side of the ballroom. A tall man with overgrown blonde locks and glowing blue eyes, who had been watching the whole ordeal for the better part of the night. He was quaint looking, golden in the skin, and he had _seen_ her. He raised his hand to the fruit of his ear, fingers searching for the button that would allow him purchase.

 _Mission Report: November 12th, 1918,_ came a voice down the line.

The man straightened, eyes empty as he whispered. "Цель расположена"

:::

In her fury, she was vaguely aware of Clark at her feet, following behind her. "Diana . . ."

"Leave me alone."

"Diana -"

"Leave me _alone."_

She didn't expect him to back off, and of course he didn't. Clark stepped in behind her, his tone brokering no argument. The words resounded in the alley, hitting the silence in a full-blown collision. It was eerily quiet, sans the burst of midtown traffic and street chatter. "What does that mean?" he persisted, braving a step towards her.

Diana stood with her back to him, her small fingers curled into tight fists. She let out a sharp, seething breath. "I didn't stutter, Clark."

"Dammit, Diana." Clark finally snapped, it was the first time she had heard Clark mad, and it was awful. "You're being irrational."

Diana let slip a terrifying laugh, one that flawlessly masked the inner panic that was broiling inside. "That's quite fabulous." she murmured coldly. "First you call me a coward and now you accuse me of being irrational. You really do have a way with words."

Clark stood his ground. "I'm curious, Diana." he replied, sharply. "Is it morality that you can't handle? You seemed to enjoy the company of Bruce Wayne all night."

"What?" Diana taunted, blue eyes gleaming fiercely. "Jealous."

Her words set Clark off, and he scoffed, shaking his head. Diana was pleased by his momentary panic. "Hardly."

Diana's heart gave an angry stutter, she crossed her arms, cocked one hip. "You're insufferable." she accused, furiously flicking her hair back. "You've been hounding me all night, Clark. It's pathetic."

Clark took a moment to really look at her, Diana was looking at him like she couldn't breath. He raised an eyebrow, "Feel better?"

Diana paused, narrowed her eyes. "Grow up."

"You only have two speeds don't you, Diana?" Clark shot back. " _Fight or Flight,_ pity that you always seem to pick the later."

"How dare you." she hissed, shoving away from the wall, heels clicking as she got in his face. "You conceited -"

"- Arrogant, journalist." Clark finished for her, Diana flushed again, and the lovely glow remained on her cheeks. Clark's lips lifted, his eyes glinting like he wasn't holding back. _"_ Admit it." It was a simple command but it was enough to fill Diana with a rush of horror.

Diana swallowed, she realized how close they were now, in the damp and dark corner of the alley. "Admit what?"

"That you feel it too." Clark murmured, his gaze suddenly intense. "You feel something for me."

A second passed, then another, that growing burn becoming impossible to bear when they were this close to one another. Diana shook her head, mouth parted and lips wet. "I don't _feel_ anything."

"Liar." Clark whispered, wondering if she was going to relapse into another fit of breathless panic, wondering how he'd be able to escape that, until a chill spread over her features and her eyes blazed.

Diana practically drew steam from her ears. "Stop calling me that."

"What's the matter, _Agent Prince_ . . ." Clark chaffed. "The truth too much for you?"

"Stop it, Clark."

Clark drew in a careful breath, knowing that his next words would send Diana over the edge for certain. But he needed her passionate rage, was desperate for the fiery drive that had captured him from the moment she'd first walked into The Daily Planet. Wanted her to feel _something_ for him. Anything, that would confirm that this wasn't all some fictitious dream living inside his head.

" _Cowardice_ , Diana." Clark breathed, his voice knifed with determination. "Perhaps, I was right after all."

The emotion drained from Diana's face, and then she was trembling, her fingers curled tighter if that was even possible.

Regret washed over Clark like it never had before.

She straightened, and her voice was absent as she said. "Then it's a good thing that your opinion is of no concern to me." She refused to look at him when she spoke again. "As apposed to you, I don't need the consent of others to define who I am. And that's why the two of us could never work." she said, her voice returning to that ice queen cold he could only remember from before they'd really known each other. "Ask me again why I could never _want_ you."

Clark's jaw tightened, and he swallowed soundly. For the first time in his life, he was lost for words.

Diana shook her head at Clark's speechless expression. "Goodnight, Mr Kent."

And with that being said Diana moved to flee, but before she could escape him, Clark caught her wrist and held her fast. His lips descended onto hers, and Diana let out a small whimper as he caught her mouth with his, bowing her to him until every inch of her was touching him.

He stroked her like a feather, threw her like a stone. But it was beyond lust, beyond restrained curiosity. It was completion, understanding, a total apocalypse of the heart. His fingers tangled in her hair, cradling her head before manoeuvring her back against the wall, trapping her up between his chest and the frosted brick. One hand slid lower to span the expanse of her waist, and she realized that she'd never been touched so firmly - never with such clear purpose.

Clark forced his frustration onto her lips, a choked groan surfacing from the back of his throat, his tongue traced across her rosy lip gloss, forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue inside. It was so sensual, so _innocent,_ that it nearly drove him to the brink of insanity.

Diana Prince was the sweetest torture he'd ever known.

Diana gasped, hands tightening on the lapels of his jacket. She was drowning in him, in the kind of way that was the worst way possible. In the smell of his cologne, in the feel of his body pressed firmly against hers. This was the kind of kiss that was dangerous, the kind that promised security, and ever lasting gratification. But the thrill of danger heightened every one of her senses, shot a high up to her brain as her lips pressed carnally against his. She let out a muffled moan against his lips, pulling him closer, but not close enough.

And then she panicked.

A wash of sobriety fell over Diana, and her eyes snapped open.

Without even thinking about it, Diana struck out at him, her nails raking his cheek and Clark's eyes widened as he jerked back in surprise, the air rushed from his lungs as he went sailing through the vicious cement of two brick building, his body colliding with something awful before coming to a screeching halt. The sound of people screaming assailed his ears, and Clark groaned under his breath, his teeth clenching as he rose to perch on his elbows.

A sharp pain shot up his back and clung to his spine, and Clark found himself flinching against the pain of being hit so hard.

The screams went higher and Clark shook his head, dazed, he sputtered and gasped, dark hair falling into his line of vision as he opened two bleary eyes to try and understand.

Diana was no where to be seen.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Voila, here is chapter 7, so this chapter was a long time (and a lot of drama) coming. I'm crying, no, I really am. I feel like I've been working on this chapter for centuries, and words cannot describe how badly I feel for that. I hope many of you understand that I didn't want to let you guys down. Sometimes life just gets in the way, and I hope I was able to make up for that.

A lot of barriers are broken in this chapter, and when the dust settles, Clark and Diana will have to try and work their way through this one. It seems like a lot of people are after Diana, courtesy of Luthor of course. Now originally I was going to make Hippolyta spill the beans to Diana about her being her bio-mother but then I got thinking about how any normal person would react and it didn't seem realistic to just tell a complete stranger "oh hey, by the way I'm your mom."

Aside from that I think this is the longest chapter I have written yet, and it was very exciting to write as well as demanding.

What's your guess for this mysterious new face I've thrown into the mix?

Thoughts?

Next up will be Chapter 8: _You're Strong._

Happy Holidays, everyone.


	8. You're Strong

IV

You're Strong

:::

 _September 13th 2016: The Daily Planet_

 _(Two days later)_

When one started off alone, solitude passed like a wisp of sad wind. It was this that The Man Of Tomorrow thought as he stared at the phone machine stationed on his desk, amongst the various scattered newspaper articles and the littered chocolate wrappers cutesy of Olsen of course. His fingers found the abandoned slip of a plastic sleeve, absently fingering the material before flipping it over to get a better look.

 _Bruce Wayne bags American Beauty Queen,_ the title screamed and his brows tightened.

He was due to drop the article on Perry's desk before noon, half an hour until now. And yet Clark couldn't bring himself to do so, for the better part of the morning he had found himself moping around the office. And how pathetic it was. It had been two days, and Clark was already desperate to erase her. He wanted to peel of every piece of Diana Prince that had managed to work it's way under his skin, unravel the tightly spun thread of memories of her eyes glinting as she blew him off, the imprint of his lips scalding hers, her breath mingling with his, that husky delicious rasp - even when she was mocking him with that haughty phrase: _You're_ _incorrigible_.

Everywhere he looked, Diana was there: glaring at him with those sparkling blue eyes, brushing back an errant strand of her black locks behind her ear, the smell of wild orchids and fire that so often followed her around smothering his senses, to the point that he would find himself checking his clothes for any physical imprint of her. Clark grimaced, rubbing his temples to ease his mind of the memory. An ache had begun to form there, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything.

 _She was strong._

 _Diana . . . was strong!_

But it couldn't be possible. Surely this was some sort of fictitious dream? Clark shook his head, _dream_. . . no, he could've laughed at that. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare and he wanted to wake up. Clark had once thought that the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen was an ascending sunrise and an empty open sky, a hazy-headed aloneness that made him forget who he was, that made him momentarily disappear.

But apparently, his heart had begged to differ.

Whether it had been fate, or simply just coincidence. Diana Prince had come storming into his life like a whirlwind of fierceness and enigma, awakening a burning passion within him that Clark had thought long since dead. Perished along with the end of his to-brief-to-call-anything affair with Lois Lane a couple odd years back. It wasn't the fact that Diana was merely just a pretty face, although that didn't hurt either. But when she _looked_ at him, Clark had felt like she was touching his soul. And in an odd, twisted sort of way, he supposed she was.

But Diana was not who he'd thought she was.

Clark had only ever been hit that hard twice in his life, and both times it had been at the hands of Darkseid. That was a wound to any man's pride, and Clark had to admit it stung him. Of course, His first instinct had been to choose rage over solitude, to wither the hurricane of his hurt until it managed to numb itself down so that he could at least collect his thoughts.

But when the world had eventually snapped back into place again around him, it was a chilling world indeed.

Clark had allowed the wound of Diana's betrayal to fester for weeks, and he had spent days being mad at her. Only to conclude that the person he was really angry at was himself - for not seeing it sooner - had he really been so blind? The answer was a cruel shrug in a hundred fleeting moments. Only now, in the cold light of day, did he truly understand what he needed from her. He shook his head ruefully, his fingers spreading across his eyes in exasperation.

He needed answers, it was that simple.

 _"I'm not most women."_

Clark's heart stopped before picking up ten times the pace. He glanced around for the familiar dark curls, the pink heart-shaped little smirk, pristinely tucked away for the rare occasions she would let him see that side of her, all satin entwined with lace, all fierceness dripped in sin. But it wasn't Diana at all.

It was Lois who snapped.

"I said, Perry was only too pleased to accept." The article landed on his desk with a sharp smack. It was the same tabloid scoop that had been taunting Clark for most of his morning, inked with the same crass words penned by none other than Lois herself. Decorated with that same dazzling photograph captured and selected by Jimmy Olsen. Diana looked ethereal in the picture, that glossy dark hair glowing with highlights under the flare of crystal chandeliers, her skin bronze and vibrant rose - the picture of health. She held her pink dress up to her chest in the picture, white teeth bared to Bruce as he appraised her figure.

And the hits just kept on coming.

Clark's heart ached, and he realized that he didn't know what to feel anymore. He let out a shallow breath before glancing away from the offending article. He didn't even have to look at Lois to know that she wasn't in the mood. "I could've told you that, Lois." he retorted after a moment, gesturing towards the article albeit dryly. "You beat me to it I see."

"I did. No thanks to you." Lois hissed, furiously waving her hands. "You've been slacking lately, Smallville. It has to stop."

Clark suppressed a groan, _here we go._ He'd hoped that it would be a quiet day in the office today, but apparently it was not to be. He briefly wondered if he could get away with pretending he hadn't heard her, but he only imagined that it would make things worse. "Lois, I'm not- "

"Please Smallville, humour me. Ever since Perry brought in that agent from DOMA you've been acting like a crushed out school boy." As always Lois proved to be sharp, efficient, everything that in that moment he hated.

Clark tensed, not bothering to glance up at the sound of Lois's pitchy tone. He let out a long breath. "Don't start, Lois."

Lois huffed. "Start what?"

Clark cocked a brow, finally meeting her gaze. "You know what."

Lois suddenly looked peeved. It never did seize to amaze him how Lois could go from the most witty person in the world to a raging harpy. It had been the same fire that had drawn him to her when they'd first met. "This is affecting your work, Clark." she finally exploded, garnering a few curious looks from their colleagues. She sucked in an impatient breath, before lowering her tone. "You need to get a grip. It's not just your career on the line here."

Clark flushed guiltily, his hand finding purchase on the back of his neck. "Lois."

"I got that article to Perry for us by the skin of my teeth at my own expense. All because you're to busy wondering when Agent Prince is going to come swanning in here next." Lois barked, her impatience growing by the second. "I'm sick of waiting for you to get your Kansas boy ass together. "

Clark's lips tightened at the mention of Diana, his eyes fell to the article again and he swallowed thickly. He managed. "I'm sorry, Lois."

Lois waved him off. "Whatever, Smallville. Save that country mouse look for someone who will give a damn." she seethed, and then took a moment to select what she had suspected all along. So. . . it was true then. Smallville, was in a flux. The dark hair said it all, the strands standing on end keenly, as if someone had taken their fingers and swept it right on through. He looked rumpled and his clothes looked like they hadn't been ironed in days. Lois shook her head in disbelief, she could see that he was only half listening to her, and it irritated her to no end. She barked out a laugh. "Oh . . . I'm sorry am I boring you, Clark?"

"No more than usual, Lois." Clark muttered, dryly, his stare still boring into the tabloid resting neatly on his desk.

Lois threw up her hands. "Seriously, Clark. You're jeopardizing working at the world's most prestigious newspaper. The Daily freaking planet!" she shook her head, incredulously. "I swear ever since that damn agent - "

Clark felt himself go hot with anger. "What is with the sudden fascination about what happens between Agent Prince and I?" he interrupted, he had finally had enough. "Haven't you got your own personal affairs to worry about?"

Lois blinked, then straightened, lithe arms folding themselves across her chest. "Excuse me?"

Clark wasn't pulling any punches. He'd had just about enough of Lois's sharp tongue this morning, and with the whole Diana debacle still fresh on his plate, Lois's incessant ranting was only adding to his darkening mood. "That's a loaded question, Lois." Clark said, his tone sharp. ". . . _Jonathan Carroll._ "

Lois's cheeks reddened in both anger and embarrassment, her finely arched brows flew up. Jonathan Carroll, was a city born import who had been working at the Daily Planet for almost as long as he. And anyone around here would have to be an idiot not to notice Lois shimmying her way into his office after hours; for a not-so-secret rendezvous. Jonathan was cool looking in a classic Hollywood sort of way and had golden blond hair to match that saga boy charm of his. Every time Clark looked in his direction, he'd sworn he saw horns. "What are you implying?" Lois finally managed to splutter out.

"Said the pot to the kettle. _Humour me_ , Lois." Clark hissed, pushing away from the desk. He was furious as he snatched up the article and Lois must've realized this because she took a huge step backward. "Not that it is any of your business. But whatever there is or was between Agent Prince and I has sailed. We were to different, and It didn't seem appropriate to try and mix business with pleasure." Bitterness had him shockingly blunt, but he couldn't stop. Lois had been treading on thin ice with him ever since that day back at Bernie's Rooftop Deck, when she had attempted to thwart his advantages with Diana. It ended today, Clark continued. "So . . . thank you for the running commentary, Lois. But It isn't appreciated."

Lois's jaw dropped. "Clark - "

"No, Lois. I've said all I've needed to say on the matter." Clark interjected, shoving the crinkled article into her hands with a gentle push. "Carry our weight, please."

Lois's lips parted in shock, her nostrils flaring out in obvious irritation. Her dainty fists seemed to tighten around the paper until it crumpled within her grasp and for a brief moment Clark wondered if she would stomp her foot in petulance.

But for once, there was no witty comeback, no smart mouthed retort.

For the first time ever, Lois Lane was completely lost for words. A harsh scoff fell from her lips and she spun on her heels, fleeing from the office space and pushing back into one of the main board rooms.

And that was the end of that.

Clark slumped back down into his seat and watched her go. He breathed a small sigh of relief and swallowed down a swell of unwelcome guilt. Lois was right really, he'd become somewhat of a lovelorn fool in the last few weeks and it was starting to take it's toll on his work. Clark would never admit to it but he had been incredibly selfish lately, and rightfully so. Even Superman deserved to mourn the loss of something that in all honest he'd _never_ really had.

Clark pursed his lips, thoughtfully.

Lois hadn't deserved that, no matter how good it'd felt. In a way he supposed that it had felt better to deflect on another rather than address the sting of Diana's betrayal head on. Lois may have only been stating her opinion on the matter, but he knew one thing for certain, that woman was damn good at her job, infuriatingly so.

Clark yanked at the tie around his neck, pulling on the material until it loosened, falling in a graceful heap at the collar of his oxford. Was it possible that this day could get any worse? He pondered on it for a minute before quickly concluding that it was highly imaginable. Clark couldn't place his finger on it, but something was telling him that this was only just the beginning. His lips parted on a sigh as he pressed himself further into his chair, slumping until he was almost certain that all the bones in his body had disappeared. Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dammit."

 _What a mess._

It wasn't enough that Diana Prince had been haunting his dreams for the past two weeks, but now the absence of her was everywhere he looked. The woman had bewitched him for life.

Clark frowned, sitting up as a glint of black and white ink caught his eye from beneath his shoe. _The tabloid._ Lois must've dropped it in her fury as she'd fled from the office. Clark lifted his foot, bending to retrieve the crumpled sheet, his hands threatened to tremble as he unravelled the paper carefully. Even if he had seen the photograph one hundred times this morning, Clark still found his breath soaring from his lungs. God, Diana looked so beautiful in that photo. That kind of beauty was much too frightening to be natural, he guessed he should've realized it sooner - the truth had quite literally been staring him in the face the entire time.

No one had the right to be that beautiful.

Clark swept his tongue across his lower lip, then shook his head. Did he truly have a right to feel this way? Frustrating as it was. He had to remember that he was Superman for crying out loud! He lied to people daily.

With his mind starting to clear, it was becoming apparent to him that Diana's deceit was nothing he hadn't done, hell, he was doing it right now, living under a faux guise amongst the people of this city. Of this _world_ for that matter.

It would've been way to simple to turn the other cheek, _let by gone be by gones_ , as Pa Kent use to be so fond of telling him. But he was Superman, and he didn't have _time_ for chance encounters and hopeless dreaming. The white picket fence, the wife, the kid. . . it was all just some cliche American dream. Impossible for someone like him. An _alien_. Clark supposed he would never quite make peace with the idea of that.

But eventually he'd find a way to accept it.

His fantasy was empty, his sanctuary was miles and miles away, and his heart felt as if it had been trampled on by a stampede of emotions. Clark looked away from the slip of paper, unable to look upon it for a second longer. He felt anger froth to the fore once again. He should have known it was too good to be true, even then, even at the height of their twisted little relationship.

Yet somehow, in the now, in an an epic battle between mind and heart: Clark made up his mind. Perhaps he'd always known what he'd needed to do.

What he needed from _her._

There was one last moment of choice, and then Clark committed himself. He stretched out a hand to the small telephone resting beside his computer and picked it up. But even as his fingers pushed the buttons, dialled the number, his mind threw a mocking question at him.

Had Diana known his true identity this entire time?

:::

 ** _The Department Of Meta Human Affairs:_**

 _Same day . . ._

"This is obscene!" Luther growled, gulping down his second glass of sparkling for the day. He took a moment to let the substance tickle in his throat, and then held up the paper with eyes that threatened to tear it apart. "Explain this, Agent."

Diana's gaze swept over the tabloid. The photograph was the same picture that had been kissing the front pages of every newspaper article in Metropolis for days now. It was making her sick. To see herself . . . like that . . . beaming, and draped in the finest silks of ashes and roses served to be of something truly distressing. In fact Diana almost found herself scowling as her mind fought to depict the similarities between the raven-haired beauty in the photograph and herself. It was a side to her that Diana hadn't even known existed up until a couple nights ago, and as terrifying as it was; the feeling of gnarling fascination was ever present.

A much more disturbing predicament.

Diana took a deep, wary breath. "Explain what?" She asked, firmly. "I've already informed you of what transpired that night."

There was a pause, and then Lex hissed. "You acted like a fool, Diana."

"I was being compromised." Diana flashed back. Of all the qualities that Dr Alexander Luthor possessed, his wilfulness proved to be the worst one. "How I acted was necessary."

Luthor didn't look to be buying it in the slightest. "So you've said." He pointed out. "But we both know that I know you better than that."

"Do you?" Diana murmured, distracted. For some reason an image of golden hair and striking blue eyes flashed through her mind, and for a moment it seemed more vivid than the dim office they were currently occupying. Diana's gaze slid away from Lex to take an interest in the ruby band wrapped innately around her slender finger. She toyed with the talisman almost absently, a pinch to her brows.

"And you would insult me like this?" Luthor hissed back. "After everything I've done for you?"

Diana's retort died on her tongue. She stared at Luthor, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She supposed that there was some logic in his words, because as much as Diana hated to admit it, Dr Luthor was right. After the benefit, she had found herself stepping into Mr Luthor's office, and present were the unshakeable nerves that plagued her whenever she was about to confront Alexander Luthor himself.

Lex waited, and when she didn't speak, he seemed to shift in his chair.

Diana bit her lip, remnants of the memory fading away. She felt odd today, almost as if she were sick as magnanimous as that sounded. Though It was more than just tension and lack of sleep. She felt slightly dizzy, and at times the ground seemed to be spongy, giving way under her feet and then springing back.

"Forgive me, my lord." Diana said, at last. She tried to fight off the image her mind wanted to show her, of Themysciran Queen arching a brow to challenge her. Of _Clark Kent_ worming his way into her thoughts, her dreams. That somehow in the madness of all of this, Luthor without a doubt, always seemed to be a good ten steps ahead of her.

Lex hesitated, then finally nodded. "I'll consider it." He said, rather sulkily. "But I beseech you to understand what type of situation you've put us in. The Justice league could very well be collecting data on us as we speak."

Diana glanced down, suddenly ashamed. "I didn't think of that," She admitted. "I was foolish and impulsive. I should've thought before I acted."

Luthor's brows were drawn together. "Is that so?" His eyes were hard and challenging, but underneath Diana could see the calculated rage that had been festering there.

"Yes." Diana waited a moment and then added, levelly, "These last two fortnights have been quite challenging for me."

Luthor seemed to accept this. "Don't worry, my dear. It won't be long now." He said, clearing his throat. "Soon we'll have The Man Of Steel right where we want him."

"And I'll have the access you promised to grant me?" Diana said before she could stop herself.

The bald headed man almost seemed amused as he traced a non-existent pattern over the front page spread, and when his gaze met hers Diana felt her chest tighten in anticipation. His lips curled. "All in good time, my dear."

Diana struggled to contain her irritation. "I don't understand. . ." she said, carefully. "You said. . ."

"Don't upset yourself, Diana." Luthor's laughter was cruel as he pushed up from his seat. "It'll only hurt your head."

Diana's forehead creased slightly, a small line appearing between her perfectly arched brows. "But you promised." She almost shouted, losing her battle with self-control.

Lex remained unmoved. "Behave yourself, Diana."

Diana heard the threat in his words, and she knew what it meant. One more outburst, one more slip in profanity and she would earn herself a spot right back in solitary confinement. She forced herself to calm down, her eyes threatening to burn with something that she refused to acknowledge as tears. "I do not understand this world," She rasped. Her voice almost cracked, and she hated herself for it, hated the way she turned into that wild and lost little subject dragging at Mr Luthor's feet when she tried to plead her case. "Since meeting . . ." _Clark_. She didn't say his name, but she thought of him all the same.

Lex stepped away from his desk, a familiar spark of anger lighting his eyes. "Who?" he asked, sharply. " _Superman_."

Diana's mouth opened in an automatic denial, and then she stopped.

"I've warned you about what they do Diana." He huffed. "About what his capable of."

"No - "

"I trained you to be smarter than that. Smarter than them." Lex continued, and his hand cracked down against the hard wood of his desk. "Are you a weakling? Was I blind to put my faith in you?" Words battered like fists in a game Diana knew all too well. Diana's nostril's flared, Luthor's face reflecting her own as she remembered herself – three years prior, reborn to an era she didn't know.

 _"Remarkable. Your vitals appear to be able to sustain the concentrated fragments of Kryptonite."_

 _"I do not understand."_

 _"You're susceptible to the alien's weakness. It's incredible."_

 _"The Alien?"_

 _". . . Superman. You'll be this world's messiah, sent from the Gods themselves, created in my image. You my residual graces, confound us all."_

 _"I am to purge this world?"_

 _"Yes, my dear."_

 _"And if I fail."_

A deranged twist of a smile had been Luthor's reply. It'd been a subtle concept but the feature had spoken volumes.

Diana swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "My head hurts." She heard herself complain. Her voice was deeper than usual, words forced and cutting, as if she was having trouble speaking. Her fist clenched around the belt of her jacket, fingernails cutting into her skin. Broken girls could love all the way to the moon - but they'd never once forget why some pieces were missing.

Luthor's face suddenly looked as though it were softening. He stared at her for a moment before moving back around his desk to pull out one of the many draws that resided in the cabinet itself. From then he presented a white looking substance in a crystal bottle, Diana had seen it before, it was the same substance he'd usually provide her with when she'd have an episode like this.

The china cup came next, and then he added the water from the steaming kettle resting on his desk that must've been brewing there before she'd really noticed it. Diana wasn't sure what was in the liquid itself, but she knew that it never seized to make her feel better. The three fibres went together, one glorious mix in one.

Her sanctuary.

She shuddered and realized that her eyes were shut. However Luthor's voice knifed into her conscience all the same. "You know how I hate to do this, Diana."

Her eyes fluttered open to take him in, and his stare was fierce. She'd seen that look so often: how could it possibly still have the power to disturb her? But it did; it sickened her and set a slow burning in her gut. Diana grit her teeth and kept herself from looking away. Luthor was advancing now, the cup of steaming hot china locked firmly in one hand. "We're a team." He said calmly, and she suddenly felt the gnawing urge to hit him. "We need to stick together in this."

 _We need to stick together,_ Diana thought wildly. Because it was true, wasn't it? She wriggled, disturbed. But before she could say anything, Lex continued, "It's my rules, remember? . . . the world is at risk and we're the only one's who can save it."

Diana gave a perfunctory nod. "It's your rules." She echoed, her voice flat. Her head ducked to take a sip from the piping liquid, and the effect was almost instantaneous. _Gods,_ she wast starting to feel better already. The ache in her temples began to fade, as did the worries of last nights antics, etching into one dwindling memory of a thing of the past.

Luthor looked satisfied. "Atta girl."

"What will happen now?" Diana asked, her voice even.

Lex's hand reached out to tuck a curling strand of raven behind her ear. "We carry on as planned . . ." He said on a rising note, as if he would've said more.

Diana frowned, and tried not to let the panic show on her face. "But . . . he knows of my abilities."

"And that was an error you made, Diana. However this might just serve to be a non-issue." Luther countered. "If we throw in the towel now it'll cause even more speculation. We're out of options. Trying to do this any other way would be foolhardy."

Diana felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Her mind scrambled, starting to imagine every awful scenario that could happen under the sun. She and Clark coming face to face, that awful Bruce Wayne bastard who she was sure could see right through her pushing her past any point of rationality. Suddenly Diana understood the feelings she'd been having all day.

She swallowed, feeling her stomach muscles tighten. _Dread,_ it was a foreign concept to her and it was most unwelcome. "We need to think strategically." she murmured, instantly catching onto his line of thinking. Her eyes fell shut in realization, as she quietly resigned herself to her fate. "What do you need me to do?"

Lex rose to his feet, looking every bit the bastard Diana knew him to be. " _Nothing_."

Diana stared at him for a moment, eyes empty. "Excuse me?"

"I've had eyes on Mr. Double Life for years." Luthor hissed, and his dark eyes were flashing. "And one thing that I've learned Diana, is that Superman's greatest weakness isn't _just_ Kryptonite." he faltered, if only for a second, gave her the cruel kind of smile she had nightmares about. "It's his _heart."_

Diana's mouth dried, and a shudder went through her. Oddly enough, disbelief was the first thing that sprang to mind. Like what Luthor was telling her was so terrible that her mind couldn't accept it. Diana's mouth dropped open to speak when her cell sounded in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning when a message lit up on the screen.

 _We need to talk. Meet me at my apartment,_

 _5 o'clock. Please._

 _\- Clark._

The message read, pure and simple, after one missed call that looked way to threatening to be genuine. Diana's heart skipped a beat, and then came that familiar warmth she hated spreading through her gut. She swallowed, vaguely aware of Luthor watching her intently. Her ears picked apart the creek of his nails pressing into the glazed oak of his desk and when her head snapped up to look at him his eyes were wide and vibrant. Diana's voice was barely a whisper when she said, "It's _him._ "

Lex slapped his palms together in glee. "Like clockwork." he rejoiced, gesturing towards the phone. "Well? what are you waiting for, Diana. Respond."

Diana hardly heard him when he spoke, too focused on the words blinking up at her. She pressed her lips together, her thumbs poised to type back a reply but then she remembered something, just a flash: looking up at Bruce Wayne's face at the Gala that night and feeling such-such hatred, such loathing for him. As if he understood the flame that burned inside her as nobody else ever could. As if he saw a monster.

 _He already knew,_ Diana realized with nightmare calmness and if Mr Wayne had known then she had every reason to believe that The Justice League was already conspiring against them. "It could be a trap." she said, without really thinking about it.

Luthor didn't even bat an eyelid. "And if it is . . ." he said in an artificially calm voice. "You know what you have to do."

Diana looked martyred, but her heart was no longer merely cold; it was ice. "Best defence is a good offense." she said, promptly tucking the phone out of sight.

Luthor gave her an appeased look before pushing away from his desk, his hand reaching for the dainty silver bell resting there. He gave it a firm tap, and not a moment later a little woman with red hair and an attire similar to her own scuttled in with his belongings. Luthor spread his arms allowing the woman to pull the coat over him. "I'll be leaving now, Diana. There are errands that I need to commit too." he announced, patting down the creases in the material.

Not that she needed any explanation at all, she had seen him perform this mundane task too many times by now to know what it meant. Diana watched as the woman handed him his briefcase before quickly moving to the door to pull it open for him. Luthor gave her one last complacent look before moving past her, and Diana found herself turning to gaze after him.

"Duty calls." he called over his shoulder without really glancing back, and Diana winced as the door slammed on her. Leaving her alone with nothing but the thoughts in her head and the thudding of her own heart. Diana let out the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

It was simple or at least it should've been. _Get in and get out,_ her head told but her stupid heart was another matter.

Diana's mind appeared to be running on another track. Now in the silence of it, in the stillness, Diana finally had a chance to hash out where she hadn't let her mind wander too. _Clark._ She hadn't quite considered what she would do when she saw him again. It was one thing answering a text message, hell, even conversing on a phone would have surfaced; but too see someone in person was another thing all together. She sighed, doing everything she could not to let her mind go there, but the little flashes of memories wouldn't go away.

They stayed with her, conflicted her, and to give in would be to surrender. Only a weakling would allow themselves to succumb to such a foolish decision.

And a weakling she was not.

:::

 _Elsewhere, Location unknown . . ._

A scream sounded, ripping through the air in one terrible swell of noise. Dr Mikael Striker took a moment to bristle at his creation. _He_ was magnificent. All long lean muscles and skin like burnished ivory, his moonlight-blond hair damp with sweat curling just short of his shoulders. He twitched in the chair, nails biting into the metals of the arms leaving rivets in their wake. The man lunged forward, slumping in on himself heavily, he was sucking in great whistling breaths, his chest heaving.

"Расслабьтесь." The woman known as Corporal Fedorov ordered, flicking at the needle in her hand. She scooted closer in her chair; her fingers finding the spot between the blond's bicep and forearm before gently inserting the substance that would provide him oblivion. "это оно."

"Это не будет долго," Striker murmured, softly. Watching as his most trusted second pushed the syringe that much farther into the man's arm. This wasn't an isolated incident, and it tended to happen a lot after subject zero awoke from Kryo sleep. He'd often wake up in a state of bafflement before quickly succumbing to hysteria, and it never normally took any longer than a few minutes to get him to remember where he was, but today it seemed to be taking a lot longer than they would've liked.

"It's so cold." the sweltering man shuddered through quivering lips. "It _hurts_!" He grunted at the sharp pain that shot through his arm, his lips parting on another cry as he reeled away. Dr Striker pushed forward, shoving aside one of the medical carts before delivering a hard smack to subject zero's face.

"фокус!" he commanded, fiercely. He grabbed hold of his chin, thrusting up his face so that he could see his eyes. "Где ты?"

"I . . . _Ares . . ._ " Subject zero's voice was taut and choked. He whispered, hoarsely. " _Diana."_

Dr Striker snarled, giving his chin a firm shake. "фокус!" he repeated, before seamlessly dropping out of his mother tongue. " _Mission Report, November 12th 1918._ "

"Do I need to get the book, Doctor?" Corporal Fedorov asked, alarmed. She seemed to have paled considerably, and she was looking at subject zero with muted dread. In any case, the book was only needed in an exceptional situation and if he couldn't manage to get subject zero coherent again by the next few moments, the book he would need indeed. They had altered this man to be an enhanced soldier of justice, with a strength that in their sessions would come to self-proclaim itself as godlike. If he managed to get free during this state of duress he'd kill them all.

Dr Striker shook his head. "No . . . He's just a little disorientated." he explained, gazing at subject zero with determined eyes. "He will be a little clearer in a moment."

Subject zero continued to spasm, knuckles flexing and clenching as he tried to gather himself. However, Dr Striker remained extraordinarily calm. "That's it." He whispered, in a tone that was much to devious to be soothing. " _Breathe_ . . . there we go."

Corporal Fedorov let herself relax ever so slightly. "Sir . . ." she began, fumbling for some of the notes resting on the metal carousel not to far from them. "Sergeant Steel, of Department X was in touch earlier today. Correct me if I'm wrong but am I right in assuming that subject zero's next bounty will be _The Winter Soldier?_ "

She splayed the papers out before her, in a better attempt to understand what she was dealing with. Then turned to Dr Striker with questioning eyes.

Dr Striker's gaze remained stationed on the trembling man before him and he answered without even sparing her a glance; like she was just some sort of inconvenient irritation sent to play messenger in a game that she didn't understand. His tone was flat. "Yes."

"And subject zero is to take her from Luthor by force?" She asked, before she could stop herself.

Striker sighed. "Call it an eye for an eye, Corporal." he hissed out, his voice a harsh whisper. "I only want what Alexander Luthor stole from me."

"And I understand that sir, but - "

"Subject zero, is the key to unravelling a breakthrough this company's been working on for years." He interrupted. "He will be the one to deliver her to us."

Fedorov bit her lip, worried. "But his episodes are getting worse, sir. His mental state is deteriorating."

"And this scares you." Striker murmured, and it wasn't a question.

"From what I understand. This man _loved_ her once." She stammered, excitedly. With sick dismay this realization finally came home to Corporal Fedorov. "Seeing her at The Wayne benefit the other night was a trigger. The closer he gets to her, the more at risk he is of falling into a mental defective state."

"Then I will be sure to notify Nurse Lundt to up the dosage." He concluded. "You can assure Sergeant Steel that this will not happen again. You have nothing to fear . . . he is contained."

"And what if he's not?" She challenged, shooting a quick glance to the now suspiciously silent man strapped to the chair.

Subject Zero's demented shrieks had stopped as if it had been cut with a knife and he was staring straight ahead, his pupils pinpoints, unseeing. It was as if somebody had taken a board mark wiper and swiped it across his mind leaving him in a near vegetative state. Dr Striker's face twitched into a smile. "солдат?"

"Gotov podchinit'sya." That voice came, and the sound made Corporal Fedorov's blood run cold.

"Mission Report, November 12th 1918 . . ."

Corporal Fedorov watched the exchange between the pair, sickened. She was sure she stopped breathing when Dr Striker's gaze slid away from subject zero's prone form to look at her. "Send for Nurse Lundt to have him cleaned up." he ordered, absently tracing his hand over the man's bionic arm. "Он готов."

:::

 _ **Mount Etna, Olympus**_

 _A higher plane . . ._

Aphrodite smirked, clutching a glass of one of the finest wines in all of Olympus in one delicate hand. Her smile widened as she heard her temples doors burst open, booming footsteps that she knew all to well smacking against the marbles floors of her chambers. The glow of gold was unmistakable, lighting the room up like a beacon. Oh yes, it appeared that brother had gotten her message after all. "Aphrodite." Hermes hissed, as he came to a halt before her. "What is the meaning of this?"

Aphrodite seemed nonplussed by his black mood, and let herself stretch out much like a sated kitten on the satin chase she'd been occupying. "Brother, how charming of you to grace me with your presence." she purred, and she twisted off a curlicue of fern from one of the branches dangling in her line of vision. She gave Hermes what was undoubtedly meant to be a nonchalant look, but Hermes detected the vicious gloating beneath.

He was visibly impatient. "You summoned me."

"I did." Aphrodite confirmed, her eyes twinkling in a way that would be dangerous on their father. Her breathtaking face gave nothing away, but her intentions were clear and this time much to Hermes relief, he could tell that it wasn't to vent about the sexual exploitation's that she and Ares partook in. Something was troubling his dear sister, which usually only happened once in a blue moon.

"Speak to me." Hermes commanded.

"Feeling cruel, brother?" Aphrodite asked, quirking a perfectly shaped brow at him. "You should direct that wrath at someone who deserves it. Perhaps, Apollo will give you the fight you are seeking." Hermes never usually seemed so tense and to see him like this irked at Aphrodite a lot more than she cared to admit.

Hermes could barely restrain himself from rounding on Aphrodite. But that would start a fight he was in no position to finish. He forced himself to stay calm as he let out a short breath. "Enough." he snapped. "State your intentions."

The smile that had flashed across Aphrodite's features moments before dropped in under a second and her pretty face suddenly looked grave. "Our little sister."

Hermes regarded her curiously for a moment. Those bright eyes blinking at her, he looked genuinely bewildered. " _Diana?_ "

His astonishment didn't escape Aphrodite. "Yes." she confirmed, letting out a long sigh. "Diana."

"What of her?" Hermes ordered. "Diana has been gone from Olympus for centuries now."

"I know it was you who informed the Queen of our baby sister's current predicament." Aphrodite announced suddenly, pulling her blond waves of hair back to rest snugly over one perfectly sculpted shoulder. "And don't insult me by trying to deny it."

"Your point, sister."

"Hera will see your role in this." Aphrodite warned. "She will crush you when she learns of your indiscretions."

"Then so be it." The messenger God said fiercely.

Aphrodite smiled, like she very much agreed with this. " _I want to help._ "

The disbelief almost leapt from Hermes's face and his laugh was slightly hysterical as he shook his head. "And why pray tell would I let _you_ anywhere near her?"

Aphrodite leaned forward, her breath hissing out in satisfaction. "Because Diana needs guidance."

"She already has guidance." Hermes said. "That's my decree."

"And a fetching job you're doing of it, brother." The love Goddess tossed away the fern. Her tone was silky, persuasive. "But the kind of guidance I am speaking of is one that we cannot provide." Hermes clearly wasn't going to reply, so she went on. "At least not physically." She pushed to her feet, her hips swaying as she sauntered over to the large scrying pool occupying the space in the centre of her chambers.

Hermes hesitated. "You've been meddling again."

"Not meddling." she corrected, and with a flick of her wrist the pool rippled to life. "Planting the seeds. She and the Kryptonian have been doing just fine on their own. But I must say, what a fine consort to fall upon her lap. He is practically eating out of her palm."

"Diana has always been quite lovely." Hermes stated wistfully, coming to stand beside her to peer into the pool.

For a moment, Aphrodite's cheeks flared with envy as she watched the image before them. "Indeed." she murmured, after a daunting second. It was no secret that Diana's beauty rivalled that of Aphrodite's and growing up Hermes could recall the bickering that would happen whenever Athena would present Diana with freshly crafted garments from her travels. Diana had been the first child to grow up on Olympus in millenniums and when she had started to blossom into womanhood she'd become the desire of many of their siblings. Ares and Apollo primarily. Aphrodite had hated Diana at first, because once Ares had gazed upon her he'd become smitten, the cautionary tale of what often happened whenever man or God walked in her presence.

Hermes sighed, blinking as whispers of the memory faded away. "However . . ." he began at last. "Diana has always been a fickle one."

"That she has . . ." Aphrodite agreed quietly. "But she craved that mortal pet of hers . . . the great lover. That magnificent face that men lusted after and killed themselves over reduced to a mortal acolyte." she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, as if the thought was so terrible that she couldn't find the words. "Was he worth it?"

Hermes drew a long breath. "Perhaps not."

Aphrodite put a hand on his arm. "He has succumbed to the same fate as she." she murmured, chancing a look at Hermes whose face appeared to be set in stone. "Crippled and a slave to the monstrosities of man just like our Diana."

Hermes pushed away from the pool, his knuckles clenching in silent anger. "This world that father guards i _disgusts_ me."

"I have no quarrel with your statement, brother." Aphrodite breathed, and her face took on an almost innocent air. "Which is why I only ask that you let me help you in your quest to restore Diana's memories." she paused for a moment, pursing her rosy lips. ". . . We both know she's going to need them."

Hermes suddenly looked worried. "Yes." He said, his face carefully solemn. "Time is of the essence."

"You will accept my help then?" Aphrodite asked, evenly.

Hermes glowing eyes were dazed and heavy, but as stubborn as she had ever seen them. He straightened, pulling himself up to his full height before he spoke again. "I will. But let me be clear on something, sister." He hissed sharply. "If I find out that your intentions for Diana are of some sort of devious ulterior motive. I will _descend_ upon you, Aphrodite."

In spite of herself she felt a tight giggle well up in her throat. "Peace, my dear brother." Aphrodite said, meeting his gaze directly, enchantingly, that faint smile still clinging about her lips. "You have my word."

Hermes visibly relaxed and Aphrodite found herself brightening at the new image that was now presenting itself in the pool. "Look now, brother." she laughed, and it was a sound full of relief. "Hope seems to be prevailing."

Hermes tightened his lips, and against his better judgement he found himself moving towards the pool.

:::

 _ **Metropolis, Clark's Apartment**_

 _Presently . . ._

Diana's heart thumped strangely as she approached the white plaque door before her. The building was different than she had initially imagined it would be, it was an intimate little place and much too ordinary, which she guessed had been the whole idea in the first place. Diana swallowed, squaring her shoulders. Thin chills seemed to be going through her, and involuntarily her mind dragged up the image that had been the look on Clark's face when she'd thrown him through that wall. She came to a halt outside the door, shaking herself, now was not the time to be feeling precarious.

After all, she had come this far.

Diana poised herself, raising a hand to tap on the door. She was not a coward, she would show Luthor that and Clark Kent for that matter. Superman was her mission, and she'd do well to remember that. On the way here Diana had done what she'd thought to be a commendable job of purging herself of whatever _mind games_ Kent had been subjecting her too all along, or at least she'd thought she had. Once again all thoughts of that predicament had been shot straight to hell.

She sucked in a breath and just as her hand was about to come down on the wood the door swung open. Diana balked . . . there _Clark Kent_ stood, or at least the mortal part of him, clad in a rumpled oxford, with a loosened tie about his thick neck and office slacks.

Diana's felt her mouth dry to a remarkable standard, and she parted her lips to speak but not a sound came out. They stared at each other for a while, and if Clark felt as strung as she did in that moment he did well to hide it, his eyes tracing over the delicate lines upon her face. He gazed back at her, and what Diana saw in his blue eyes made her draw in her breath. They weren't hard and shuttered like she had expected, but they were full of a flat despair that was just as bad.

It made Diana feel as though she were being whisked from one world to another. She blinked dizzily, stepping back, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Clark - " Diana bit down on her lip and her throat nearly closed in on itself. Clark waited for her to go on, but she was already shaking her head, just as lost for words as he.

He stepped aside wordlessly, allowing the door to open that much farther. The silence was deafening, and Diana felt the presence like some sort of second entity. She regarded him for a suspended second, before stepping over the threshold. If she was weak enough to show her discomfort now she was sure that he'd be able to smell it.

Diana shuffled into the room, coming to a stop when she reached the core of the apartment. She tensed when she heard the door click shut behind her, and raised her chin before turning to face the source of her avoidance for the past two days head on.

Clark was strangely calm as he folded his brawny arms across his chest, and Diana found herself shifting uncomfortably under his earnest gaze. Diana blinked, bracing herself for the onslaught and sure enough it came in the vengeance of three deafening words. His eyes blazed, and Diana's heart knocked frantically at the stiffness in his voice.

"So . . . you're strong."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** AU - Derived from The Captain America story line. Chapter 8! Yay! Yes I know, I'm terrible but life can be a bitch when it's getting in the way and I know it's such a cruel cliffhanger to end it on but what can I say if there's no suspense, there's no story. Just to narrow this chapter down: After finding out what Diana was Luthor stole her from Department X to use her as a weapon against Clark and the league. If you haven't guessed already I can now confirm that subject zero is in face Steve Trevor. My take on how he survived getting blown up in that plane back in 1918, tied into the Bucky Barnes story line of course, except in this tale Diana is the Winter Soldier and Steve is the mutt that their using to take her back from Luthor.

Don't worry next chapter will mostly be a Clark and Diana two hander. But you will get to see what Bruce and J'onn are up too and I will also get introduce you guys to the rest of the Justice League as well.

Thoughts?

Next up will be Chapter 9: _Mortal Coil_


End file.
